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THE 



FAIREST OF THE FAIR 



BY 



HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE 




PHILADELPHIA 

HENRY ALTEMUS 
1894 



->- 



Copyrighted by Henry Altemus, 1894 






ALTEMUS 
BOOK BINDERY 
PHILADELPHIA 



The Fairest of the Fair, 3 

and ruffles the surface of the Lagoon, on which 
ghde back and forth gondolas and launches, 
the gondoliers moving with a rhythmical mo- 
tion, and the brilliant sashes round their waists 
adding a touch of lovely color. There is a 
sound of talk and laughter in the air, and peo- 
ple move to and fro, across the bridges, and in 
and out of the buildings. Suddenly, a strain 
of music radiates outward, and from one of the 
white pavilions with a peacock-blue roof, in 
front of the Administration, a band breaks 
forth into a Strauss waltz. 

You sit down on one of the benches, and 
with the music in your ears, you let your eyes 
rest on the fountain. How beautiful it is ! A 
graceful barge, oared by eight nymphs, and 
steered by Time, who has bound his scythe to 
the rudder-post for a tiller. On the bows is 
winged Fame, standing light-footed, the trum- 
pet in her hand. And throned high on a tri- 
umphal chair in the centre, is the Spirit of the 
Fair — Columbia. She sits erect ; the robe has 
fallen from her lovely body, and hes across 
her knees. Her scarf flutters behind her ; her 
head is proudly hfted, as who should say to 
the Old World entering at her gates, " Behold 



4 The Fairest of the Fair. 

what I have done!" Round the barge mer- 
maids and dolphins sport, and tritons astride 
plunging horses clear a path through the water. 
The rustling of the cataract mingles with the 
music, and drifts away over the Lagoon. You 
look and look. Every moment some new 
beauty meets your sight, and what you have 
seen grows more lovely. 

Yonder, over by the Peristyle, in the angles 
of the wings (Music Hall and the Casino), are 
two little Greek Vestal temples, pure white out- 
side, and delicately tinted within. Broad flights 
of steps lead from the Lagoon to the Buildings 
of Agriculture, and of Liberal Arts ; and on 
the right bank, two colossal bulls with maid- 
ens at their sides, face two mighty horses with 
ploughboys on the other side of the water. 
On the walls of Agricultural Palace are painted 
allegorical figures of sun-tanned nymphs, in- 
stinct with life and motion. Behind the 
columns of the Peristyle gleams in ever-chang- 
ing color the great Lake. 

Time is lost here. You glance at the foun- 
tain — and lo ! an hour has gone by. You turn 
and look down the Lagoon, and the ringing of 
the chimes in Machinery Hall reminds you 



The Fairest of the Fair, 5 

dreamily that the morning has passed, and it 
is noon. But it matters not. You feel with a 
sumptuous delight that an hour, a day, a week, 
are unmeaning terms to you here ; you count 
by shadows on the walls, by the rhythm of 
the fountain, by the sweet silences of the 
buildings. 

Yet even here, in this lovely Court, there are 
some things which are not perfect. Perhaps it 
is as well that this should be so, for it reminds 
you that the work has been really done by 
man after all, and has not been conjured out 
of the white clouds by the music of some an- 
gel's voice. 

On the bridges are the figures of eight wild 
animals. Two on each bridge are by Edward 
Kemeys, and two by some one called Proctor. 
Kemeys's are the two grizzlies on the north 
and the two buffalo on the south bridge. It is 
not only because these animals are true to 
life — that the posing fine and original — that 
you look so often at them, always with the re- 
sult of seeing something new to admire ; it is 
because they possess that touch of the ideal — 
that suggestion of the soul — which, lacking in 
the real animal, is bestowed by the magic of 



6 The Fairest of the Fair. 

art. Hence they can never weary you, any 
more than the blue Lagoon could, or the roses 
in Wooded Island. But the other animals, by 
Proctor — what strange things are these ! Such 
bundles, and lumps, and shaky, incoherent 
legs ! Come ! fortunately they are easy to 
f(>rget. 

At the foot of the steps leading down from 
]\[achinery Hall half a dozen gondolas are al- 
ways lying, waiting for passengers. The gon- 
doliers lounge about in listless attitudes, or sit 
eating their lunch, and conversing rapidly in 
their soft language ; broad-brimmed hats, with 
a ribbon matching the sash about their waists, 
shading their brown faces and black eyes. 
Surely gondolas are the ideal boats to take you 
about the lagoons ! 

I step into a blue and silver one, and lean 
back luxuriously against the cushions, letting 
one hand hang over the side, that the rippling 
water may occasionally touch it. I feel dream- 
ily happy, and am ready for anything beauti- 
ful. The gondoliers take their places, and lean 
against the heavy sweeps. With an almost 
imperceptible swaying motion, the graceful 
gondola leaves the broad steps, passes under 



The Fairest of the Fair. 7 

the cool shadow of the bridge, and enters the 
Central Lagoon. 

Having surrendered myself to the winnin<^ 
mystery of the water, it reveals to me a thou" 
sand new beauties. Here is a glimmering and 
elusive reflection of the golden dome, appear- 
ing for a moment and then gone. The waters 
of the fountain, cascading down the terraces, 
are full of changing colors, and take a hundred 
fanciful shapes. The white maiden on the 
lofty seat seems to thrill with life caught from 
the tall, sun-lit jets. The powerful tritons curb 
their horses with difficulty. But now the gon- 
dola turns, and moves down to the Republic 
round whose head a couple of little birds are 
fluttering. The dancing girls on the ruddy 
walls of the Palace of Agriculture peep be- 
tween the white pillars a trifle wistfully as if 
they would not mind foregoing their duty of 
adornment for awhile, and coming out here 
with me. As we cross before the arch of the 
Peristyle, I look through it over the long levels 
of the Lake to the misty horizon. And now a 
httle electric launch, slipping noiselessly by us 
shatters the image of the Vestal Temple that a 
moment before had trembled on the surface of 
the Lagoon. 



8 The Fairest of the Fair. 

The measured sound of the sweeps moving 
in the rowlocks merges into the ripple of the 
waves against the sides of the gondola, and 
with the subdued murmur of the people pass- 
ing on the banks, makes a kind of music, to 
which the gondoliers, swaying back and forth, 
give time. Now we leave the Grand Basin, 
and enter another lagoon. On the right is the 
Main Building, its great length and fair propor- 
tions making me feel a serene and 
„4^ "i pleasant wonder. But, imper- 
ceptibly separating itself from 
the other sounds, a con- 
tented quack-quacking 
from little ducks makes 
itself audible. 
^. Sweeping out of 

■#^C\ ^ .. the shadow 

of another 



bridge, I see — 

full of green lights, 

and breathing forth a 

medley of sweet odors. 




The Fairest of the Fair. 9 

with the wind whispering through the leaves of 
its trees, and waving its tall grasses — lovely 
Wooded Island : Swans, ducks and pelicans are 
swimming or wading along the sedgy banks, 
and wild birds flit in and out between the 
branches of the trees. Irises grow in blue 
clumps, and white and yellow flowers twinkle 
through the dark shadows underneath the 
bushes. Here and there, through openings, as 
the boat goes on, I catch glimpses of winding 
paths and stretches of turf. The very water 
has a woodland look, and ripples green amongst 
the reeds and bushes, reflecting the fat white 
ducks and stately swans, and coquetting with 
the sunbeams which have managed to slip 
through the leafy tangle. I feel sure that, 
peeping through some especially thick clump 
of flowery shrubbery — could I but catch a 
glimpse of him — is the brown and laughing 
face of a satyr, who, having lost his reckoning, 
fancies himself in the Golden Age, on one of 
the islands of the Grecian Archipelago. And, 
as I glance around, and see the white palaces, 
the lofty pillars, the graceful curves of bridges, 
the blue water lying v/ithin marble margins ; 
and hear the sound of distant music, and smell 



lo The Fairest of the Fair, 

the perfume of roses — I find it very easy to 
believe him right ! 

But all this while we have been floating on- 
ward, and now we are abreast of the Japanese 
tea-house, with its quaint and charming little 
garden, enclosed by a green bamboo fence. 
Bamboo tables, mats and stools are scattered 
about, and to and fro move just the people 
suited to the dainty place. They wear grace- 
ful costumes of dull silken blues and browns, 
with touches of crimson and gold, and all their 
ways are soft and gentle. There is a low 
clinking of cups and saucers, and I fancy that 
I hear the tinkle of a stringed instrument com- 
ing from within the cottage. 

Ever and anon we pass other gondolas, and 
I feel a sort of bond between the people in 
them and myself. For are they not also in 
Dreamland with me, removed by countless 
ages from the rest of the world ? Occasionally, 
too, my gondoliers and those of another boat 
will exchange a greeting in musical Itahan, and 
nod their heads to one another, laughmg. And 
once in a while my companion or I murmur 
some word of delight, or draw each other's at- 
tention to some lovely object. But chiefly we 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 1 

are silent, for words are unsatisfying and super- 
fluous. 

As we return round Wooded Island, every- 
thing takes on new aspects. On the right bank 
are several pretty buildings, and, gHttering in 
the sun, the vast crystal dome of Horticultural 
Hall swells like a giant soap bubble against 
the sky. There, too, breaking rudely into the 
warm whites that make so harmonious a whole, 
is a red and gold and silver and green build- 
ing, whose fair outlines are disguised beneath 
the thickness of its many coats of paint. It is 
a great pity. I am glad to turn away from it, 
and to look up at the gold cupolas of Elec- 
tricity Building, behind which a glorious mass 
of snowy cloud has heaped itself. While I am 
still gazing thereon, we pass under the shadow 
of the bridge, and are once again in the Grand 
Basin. Machinery Hall is almost opposite, and 
I notice for the first time its two different and 
lovely entrances. The play of the fountain has 
intermitted, and the stiller water reflects more 
distinctly the lofty towers of the building, albeit 
the image is continually ruffled by passing 
boats. 

And now the sweet, slight motion of the 



12 The Fairest of the Fair, 

gondola ceases, and we get out, and go slowly 
up the broad steps which we descended — when 
was it ? Perhaps years ago ! I look back, 
almost expecting to find that the gondola, with 
its two brown gondoliers, has vanished like a 
fairy illusion. But no ; there it is, floating 
lightly on the Lagoon, while the men lounge 
in the shade thrown by one of the big horses 
*;hat stand overlooking the water. 



II. 

When the band is playing in the plaza before 
the Administration Building, the benches are 
generally filled with people. Many of them 
sit as close as they can get to the band-stand, 
with their backs to the Lagoon, watching the 
movements of the leader's baton, or the uni- 
forms of the players. They are probably the 
same variety of humanity which, in country 
places, builds ugly httle houses facing a dusty 
highway, while behind, and additionally hidden 
by a huge pile of firewood, lies a glorious view 
of sky and water and golden fields. 

But the greater number sit in happy quiet- 
ness, looking over the Lagoon, and at the 
fountain. You see people you would scarcely 
expect to find in such a place. Here, leaning 
against the balustrade which encircles the foun- 
tain, his head bent back, staring up at the 
rounded curve of the Administration's dome, 
is an old farmer, in a rusty black suit, with a 
collarless shirt and a broad-brimmed hat. His 

13 



14 The Fairest of the Fair. 

face is struggling to express an intricacy of new 
emotions, but succeeds only in looking dazed. 
After a while, he moves on towards Agricultural 
Palace, where he is sure of finding something 
which he can thoroughly master. 

Beside you is an unmistakable Irish cook. 
She is examining earnestly the mermaids of 
the fountain. Presently, turning toward you, 
she murmurs in an awed voice, " Is it craters 
like them that be in the say ? Howly Mother 
of God, but what a wonderful place it is ! 
Women wid tails like the fishes !" And mut- 
tering exclamations of wonder and delight, she 
passes on. 

If you are inexperienced, you may, in at- 
tempting to reach any desired spot, try to 
shorten the way by going through one or other 
of the buildings which intervene. But after 
you have in this way missed one or two im- 
portant engagements, you learn always to go 
round outside when in a hurry. No matter 
how determined you may be to go straight 
through a building, or how little you may look 
to the right hand or to the left, something is 
certain to catch your attention, and then you 
are lost. The Liberal Arts Building is especially 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 5 

perilous. However, this will not really prevent 
you from going through the buildings ; it will 
simply cure you of being in a hurry. 

At first you are bewildered by the enormous 
quantity of things to be seen ; but presently 
you find out that the way to do is to forget that 
anything exists except the particular building, 
or statue, or picture, or bronze, or necklace, at 
which you happen to be looking. This is soon 
learnt, and thenceforward you are all right. 
You are never confused, and you remember 
perfectly just what and where is everything that 
has delighted you. ^ 

There are really three worlds at the Fair, 
utterly distinct and different. The lovely 
buildings, the lagoons, the broad walks, the 
statues and flowers and green turf, the arch of 
the sky, flooded with sunHght, or misty under 
the moon — all these are one world. Inside the 
many buildings is another world, intricate and 
wonderful ; and Midway Plaisance is the third. 
Perhaps the three were better called a Trinity, 
of which the first is the soul, the second the 
mind, and the last the body. [ 

There is no one view of the Arts Building of 
which one may say "This is the loveliest!" 



1 6 The Fairest of the Fair. 

However, I have said it of each one separately, 
for each is so perfect that its beauty leaves one 
no room for memory or anticipation, but fills 
one with deep satisfaction — with the happiness 
of simply lookijig, full of content, and yet ever 
desiring more. 

I liked to stand with my back to the Illinois 
Building — (a wise thing to do always, for the 
Building is an ugly one) — and look across the 
lagoon to where one wing, white-columned, 
strong, seeming to have stood from eternity, 
and to be beyond time's touch, lies along the 
water's edge in breathless loveliness. On a 
pedestal in the centre of the broad flight of 
steps leading upwards from the lagoon, is the 
colossal statue of the Medici Minerva ; a god- 
dess indeed, standing where only a goddess 
could stand, and look more beautiful. Building 
and statue are both perfect in themselves, and 
yet each is better for the other. The blue 
water changes here to white, with silvery lights 
and shadows, through which the reflection of 
the rounded pillars, the steps and arches gleam 
tremulously, sometimes almost complete, and 
then vanishing, only to be formed once more 
in the still depths of the lagoon. 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 7 

After gazing long at this, I would walk round 
to the other side and sit on a bench near the 
New York House, and look again. Here the 
central part of the Building is directly in front, 
with the wings on either side. There are broad 
lawns here, and some distance in front of the 
Building is the noble statue of the Emperor 
Augustus. This palace is somehow like Silence 
turned to marble. The grandly simple out- 
lines, the grey shadows on white walls and 
pillars, the curve of the arches and the low 
domes, the harmonious decorations, and the 
dignity and sweetness of it all, seem the incar- 
nation of an unuttered poem. An ideal, not of 
the silence of Nothingness, but of that Silence, 
surpassing and embracing all beautiful sounds, 
which crowns the summits of mighty moun- 
tains, and dwells in the depths of the sky and 
the ocean. Truly a perfect building, if there 
be one in this world ! 

But in addition to these kings and queens of 
architecture, there are many minor buildings, 
certain views, or groups, effects of light and 
shade, lovely vistas suddenly revealed as you 
saunter along, and which, as you have found 
them for yourself and by yourself, you grow to 



1 8 The Fairest of the Fair. 

love particularly — these lesser things are not 
less worthy in their measure. Walking back 
from the Midway to the Grand Basin, I liked 
to take the path between Electricity and Mines, 
for there I got an especially lov^ely view of 
Administration ; and at night, when the moon 
was full, there was a moment when it would 
balance its serene silver globe right above the 
golden dome, as though some spirit of the air 
had playfully and wisely placed it there, to add 
the finishing touch to the beautiful creation of 
Man. If so, then this same spirit played other 
pranks with fair Diana ; for one evening, while 
she was yet crescent, and floating in a rosy 
sunset sky, he poised her right over the exqui- 
site minaret in Cairo street — a celestial compli- 
ment, indeed, to the Sublime Porte ! 

I was surprised to see how many people 
make a dreadful duty of "seeing the Fair." 
Loaded down with guide-books, pads, pencils 
and bags, with an expression of hopeless wear- 
iness and discouragement, they stagger along, 
carrying an ever-increasing load of woe. For 
each minute spent in looking at a building or 
picture, three are wasted in a minute study of 
the guide-book. Not, presumably, Jiaving 



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The Fairest of the Fair. 21 

much time, they do not pause, should any- 
thing please them particularly, to take delight 
in it ; but pass on to what comes next, and 
glare at that, and so on, until they drop ex- 
hausted on a bench, too tired and cross to 
notice even the loveliness before their eyes, 
restful though its harmonious strength or sweet 
simplicity may be. These misguided creatures 
turn heaven to hell. They never realize that 
if they have but a day, two days, a week, or 
what not, it is better to spend it seeing some 
one thing, and studying its beauty until they 
feel it has become a part of themselves, and 
that they can always remember it with happi- 
ness, — than to rush and hufry from object to 
object, recollecting nothing, learning nothing, 
and losing what they might have had because 
they insanely coveted all. 

On the north end of Wooded Island are 
three Japanese houses. Every part of them is 
perfect ; and the more I examined them, the 
more I found to admire in their exquisite work- 
manship, in the combination of the different 
woods, and in the coloring. 

For a long time they were closed ; but one 
morning I found to my delight that at last the 

3 



22 The Fairest of the Fair, 

gliding partitions had been drawn back and I 
could look into the dainty rooms. One of 
these rooms seemed to be a kitchen, or per- 
haps a dining-room, or both. The floor is 
covered (as in all the rest) with matting of 
cream color, and the junction-lines of the mats 
are covered with strips of some fabric orna- 
mented with a running pattern in grey. In 
the middle of the room are several little lac- 
quer-work tables, holding small pots and pans 
— of burnished copper, I think — and lovely 
tea-pots, cups and other utensils. Every- 
thing is cleaner than the most careful and par- 
ticular of Yankee housewives ever dreamed of. 
There is, indeed, fiothing to attract dirt. The 
paper walls, which slide back and forth, are of 
delicate tints, sometimes with fans painted on 
therfi, or some long-legged storks and a few 
rushes, or a flight of little birds. The white 
matting, one or two beautiful vases, and a little 
lacquer-work table are the chief furniture. In 
one of the rooms there are also some lamps 
with tall, slender stems and colored shades, 
and a few musical instruments, fascinating to 
look upon. And here and there are gorgeous 
jars, in which are artificial chrysanthemums 



The Fairest of the Fair, 23 

and other flowers, copied to the life, and yet 
with a sHght conventional touch which keeps 
them from being only copies. What quaint 
and curious little dwellings these are, and how 
beautiful ! If we had to live in houses like 
these, would we gradually become as gentle 
and courteous and soft-spoken as the little 
people who built them ? Or, if we should 
build houses that suited us as well as these do 
the Japanese — what a queer variety of them 
there would be, to be sure ! 

If the wind is from the right direction one is 
aware of the existence of the Rose Garden 
long before coming upon it. I found it within 
a low fence ; grass-bordered paths wind to- 
wards it, with occasional beds of flowers, or 
clumps of shrubs. The perfume, now strong, 
now fainter, blew about me, and now I could 
see the roses themselves. 

Some are little trees, covered with red and 
pink flowers, and standing up proudly, as well 
they may. Here is a bed of low bushes, and 
all the roses on them are pale yellow, with 
golden hearts. Some tumble about recklessly, 
with a generous flood of blossoms ; and some 
lean against little sticks and hold up one per- 



24 



The Fairest of the Fair. 



feet flower. Along the borders of the beds 
honeysuckle is twined, and there are other 
flowers, but the roses did not let me look at 
these much. Even the Lake wind is soft here, 
and lingers lovingly, barely shaking off the 
curled petals of the very fullest-blown rose in 
all the garden. 




III. 

I HAVE spent many an hour wandering 
among the bronzes and marbles which France, 
Italy and Russia show in their exhibits in the 
Liberal Arts Building. 

Those in the French department are always 
delicate and graceful, and many are beautiful. 
Some of Barye's groups are here, a few with 
human figures, but chiefly little casts of his 
best-known animals. These are interesting, 
the whole conception being fine, and every 
detail worked out ; and yet they always seem 
to me to be more like animals on parade than 
as though they were simply living their own 
wild lives, without bothering about their ap- 
pearance. 

There are many nude figures of women, one 
especially lovely Diana, gracefully erect, with 
her bow in her hand. She has a bewitching 
air of lithe dignity and wildness, well-suited 
to her. There are also little costumed figures, 
as pretty as one can wish. The Russian 

25 



26 The Fairest of the Fair, 

bronzes are much more elaborate than the 
French ; generally groups of oxen dragging 
ploughs, or horses plunging and rearing with 
sleighs or carts. I liked them greatly, there is 
so much in each, without confusion. If you 
have been to Buffalo Bill's Wild West, which 
is encamped just outside the Fair Grounds, you 
may remember the Cossack who rides round 
the arena standing up, with his feet in the stir- 
rups crossed over the saddle. As I was look- 
ing at these bronzes, I came across a group of 
a horse and man riding in this way. The Cos- 
sack had the rein over his right arm, and was 
partly turned round, in the act of firing a long 
musket at some one. The horse, suddenly 
arrested, is crouching back with his fore-feet 
barely touching the ground, and his head pulled 
up by the rein. Everything about the group 
shows the suddenness with which the rapid 
motion of a moment ago has been checked ; in 
another instant, horse and rider will be dash- 
ing on again, faster than ever. 

Among the beautiful nymphs and goddesses, 
village maids and little children, carved out of 
Carrara and Parian marble, in the Itahan 
exhibit, was one figure of Marguerite in the 



The Fairest of the Fair, 27 

pretty Gretchen dress, with wavy hair, and a 
sweet, innocent face. The figure is not remark- 
able at a first glance, either for originality or 
excellence. However, as I was about to pass 
on, I noticed that a mirror behind Marguerite 
did not reflect her long braids and pretty 
shoulders, but, instead, the sly eyes and sneer- 
ing mouth of Mephistopheles looked at me 
mockingly from the clear glass. The back of 
the statue had been carved into another figure. 
The effect was rather ghastly ; and on looking 
again at Marguerite, it seemed as though the 
devil's ugly sneer was lurking in her smile. 
Having once seen him, his influence spread 
over what before was innocent and lovely, and 
caused a feehng of horror to arise. I hope 
there are few such statues. 

In some of the figures, especially of Moors 
and Dancing Girls, bronze and marble are 
combined. The face, arms and feet are metal, 
and the flowing robes and burnouses of white 
marble. The effect is striking and pretty. 

In the Japanese exhibit in the same Building 
is — or was — a group of two wrestlers. The 
men are not a foot in height, and perfect in 
every detail ; hair, eyes, expression, color — all 



2^ The Fairest of the Fair. 

exactly reproduced. The pose is splendid, and 
one of the men — the larger — has slightly the 
advantage ; yet so very sHght that I found my- 
self holding my breath and waiting for the final 
struggle which must instantly take place. The 
smaller one seems to be the quicker and 
cleverer, and perhaps after all, thought I . . . 
when I remembered that they would probably 
stay as they were for some time at least. 
Curiously enough, you do not notice their size 
after a moment, nor think whether they are 
large or small. They seem two wrestling men 
— neither more nor less. 

Everything in this Japanese exhibit is beauti- 
ful, except the things that are meant to be 
grotesque — like the masks, for instance, which 
are hideous enough to give any well-trained 
child the nightmare. There is one blue vase 
I should like to have where I could always see 
it ; of perfect shape and color, with an iris or 
two painted on it. There are vases of all 
shapes, colors and styles of decoration, con- 
sorting with beauty ; exquisitely carved cabinets 
with innumerable shding-doors and drawers 
and niches, fascinating to look upon. There 
are carvings in ivory, too ; but better ones can 



The Fairest of the Fair. 29 

be seen in the Chinese exhibit at the other end 
of the Building. The Chinese certainly have 
an especial genius for this kind of carv- 
ing ; no people, except possibly the Siamese, 
can approach them in it. Their exhibit is 
small, but you can spend a long time there. 
Three or four Chinamen, in beautiful costumes, 
saunter about, or fan themselves leisurely, 
seated in carved and inlaid chairs. Their 
queues touch the ground even when they stand 
up. They have strange musical instruments, 
covered with snake skin ; gnarled roots, freak- 
ishly resembling monstrous animals, have had 
shining eyes put in their heads, and the wood 
is polished. Beautiful garments of such ex- 
quisite colors that I wanted to put them on 
instantly — even as I like to pick a flower when 
I see it — hang against the walls. There is 
a tiny vase with the remains of blue enamel on 
it, and a dainty flower design, which is four 
hundred years old, and belonged to some long 
dead Chinese Emperor, who was probably ad- 
miring it while Columbus was struggling with 
circumstances for a look at these shores. I 
found wonderful embroideries too, in rich colors 
and intricate designs. There is a set of ivory 



3o The Fairest of the Fair, 

chess-men so marvelously wrought that they 
look as if they needed but the chess-board to 
become ahve and play the game themselves ; 
— and if their souls correspond with their faces, 
a very terrible game they would make of it ! 

The Siamese Pagoda in this same Building 
was brought from Siam in parts, and afterwards 
put together here. It adjoins the various ex- 
hibits of Great Britam, and looks like a rich 
Oriental casket amongst a dingy array of shop- 
cases. It is chiefly red and gold, and the 
square pillars that support the curved roof are 
set with sparkling bits of looking-glass in a 
pattern. It is full of lovely things ; — yards 
and yards of dull red silk, hand-painted in a 
sort of stenciling of gold and black, which 
must have been the work of years ; great bowls 
of silver and brass, chased and hammered 
beautifully, and of exquisite shape ; jewelry, 
said to be two centuries old, and either ex- 
ceedingly rich and massive — precious stones 
set in bands of solid gold — or else bracelets 
and rings of most fine and delicate workman- 
ship. Outside the Pagoda are some gigantic 
tusks, beautiful drums, gongs and other musi- 
cal instruments, all of strange shapes and 



The Fairest of the Fair, 3 1 

sounds. The carvings in ivory are wonderful. 
Two tusks are wrought with Httle figures of 
men and animals, until they look like lace- 
work, something after the manner of the Chi- 
nese. There is much inlaid work, and some 
landscapes done in mother-of-pearl, quaint and 
lovely. There are also some small models of 
houses in Bangkok, with wide verandas and 
peaked roofs, looking cool and luxurious. No 
matter how long I stayed in this Pagoda, I was 
sure to catch a ghmpse of something new 
every time I tried to go away ; so that I could 
get off only by promising myself to return 
later ; — and I kept the promise. 

But there was no necessity of leaving the 
Orient in the meanwhile. I crossed over to 
the East Indian Room, a httle further north. 
There is some horn-work there, which — could 
the unfortunate animal from which the raw 
material was taken but see it now, would 
ravish him with delight, and he would bless 
his slayer. Cabinets and screens, chairs and 
tables of teak-wood, carved elaborately and 
inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl, so that 
you stand before them fascinated : strange 
idols, rich embroideries, magic boxes, hangings 



32 The Fairest of the Fair. 

in colors such as those that flood the sky at 
sunset — not flaming, but subdued ; these are a 
few of the wonders to be found there. 

In the Bulgarian exhibit is a native, ready to 
answer any questions, in pretty English, spoken 
with a soft, slow voice. He was explaining, 
while I was there, the dress of a Bulgarian 
village girl to a superciHous old lady from the 
West. The dress was of soft material, in dull 
reds and blues, trimmed with heavy lace. " It 
takes our girls many, many years to make so 
much lace as is on this dress," he said ; " it is 
all done by hand, careful and slow." " A 
foolish way of wasting time!" interrupted the 
old lady, with decision. " There ain't no 
manner of use in spending years making lace, 
when you can buy what'U do just as well for 
ten cents a yard." " It is not that," answered 
the Bulgarian ; " our girls love so much to 
make beautiful things. The things are never 
like one another ; each girl makes her own ; 
and it is handed down for many hundred years, 
sometimes. Always it is beautiful. Yoic make 
everything by machine, you always in great 
hurry, begin something else, never have enough 
time. Perhaps you right ; but our way good, 
too." 



The Fairest of the Fair. 33 

It is true. Too much of our life is spent in 
making hundreds of things just Hke hundreds 
of others. These Eastern people spend their 
life in making one thing which, when done, is 
beautiful, and contains something personal — 
something which makes it unlike anything else, 
whether by variation of pattern, or combina- 
tion of color, or design of carving. And they 
love what they do, and enjoy doing it. Do 
we ? 

However, I found beauty enough at Tiffany's 
rooms to keep me absorbed for a long while — 
judging by the clock, that is. Graceful vases 
of polished and fretted gold and silver, mighty 
loving-cups, deep-colored jewels gleaming mys- 
tically with interior fire. Here is the wonderful 
Magnolia Vase, Aztecan in shape, and most 
beautifully enamelled in a design both graceful 
and harmonious, and of which every portion is 
American. The hue of the pavilion containing 
the Tiffany exhibit is a delicate yellow, and the 
design and decorations are in perfect taste. 
Besides the dining and toilet sets, the neck- 
laces, rings and tiaras, the lamps and statuettes 
in the main department, several beautifully-fur- 
nished rooms are shown, and a most exquisite 



34 The Fairest of the Fair. 

little chapel. It is full of dim, rich light, that 
enters by stained-glass windows, and radiates 
softly from several great candles, and a couple 
of swinging lamps — which latter, however, seem 
more to draw the light towards them than to 
send it forth. There is everywhere a feeling of 
subdued color, in which the great silver cruci- 
fix on the altar gleamingly defines itself. On 
the right hand, a great bronze bell or gong — I 
am not sure which — in an alcove, hangs globe- 
like, divided into hemispheres, the lower sta- 
tionary, and the upper, which is raised about 
an inch, swinging from a great chain. It is a 
gracious spot ; and the many sounds of the 
Great Building, entering here as softly as the 
light, deepen and grow faint, like the breathing 
of an organ. 

In the exhibit from the Netherlands is much 
of the beautiful Delft ware. Tiles and large 
placques and plates, all in the lovely blue and 
white, bearing land and sea-scapes, where wind- 
mills and idly floating sloops and fishing-smacks 
look idly picturesque. Denmark has a col- 
lection of articles once belonging to Hans Chris- 
tian Anderson ; his desk, chair, coal-scuttle, 
some Danish newspapers ; and on a table is a 



The Fairest of the Fair, 35 

small vase containing a handful of snowdrops. 
There are also several of his manuscripts, 
written in a small, rather clear handwriting, with 
many corrections. But all these things do not 
help me to know him half so well as one of his 
shortest stories. 

This is far from being all that is worth see- 
ing in the Big Building. Hardly ! But if you 
exercise your imagination, you may be able to 
form some idea of the myriad things unde- 
scribed, by these few samples. Besides, I shall 
come back here again. 



IV. 

Pluto, the god of Mines, has a Building all 
to himself. It would, perhaps, have been more 
appropriate to have placed his exhibit in a vast 
cavern underground, where the treasures in his 
possession might have been shown as they ap- 
pear before being carried into the light of day. 
As it is, the mystery and romance of Mining 
are lost ; and there remains only the commer- 
cial product, — pieces of stone piled in heaps 
on long tables ; slabs of beautiful polished 
marbles ; granite and quartz ; huge lumps of 
coal — though the biggest lump — and what a 
lump it is ! — is to be found in the Washington 
State Building. Much of the display is inter- 
esting, even to persons who have nothing to 
do with the industry ; and it is edifying to see 
how ordinary and unassuming are the bits of 
rock containing the precious metals. I should 
never have thought of picking any of them up 
— except perhaps to throw at a chicken scratch- 
ing up the treasures of my garden, as it is the 
sinful habit of chickens to do. 

36 



The Fairest of the Fair, yj 

Nevertheless, the rough ores are far prettier 
than the "Justice" in the Montana section, 
which is made out of the silver manufactured 
by that commonwealth, — the Ada Rehan "Jus- 
tice," shining like a new nickel-plated skate, 
and perched on a gilded globe, with a pair of 
scales in her hand filled with what appears to 
be real money. In her right hand she brand- 
ishes a sword. Altogether, she is ugly, un- 
graceful and tiresome. I hoped Miss Rehan 
has been spared the pain of beholding her ; 
otherwise, she must have felt Hke taking a hint 
from Buffalo Bill's cowboys, who, it is said, 
stumbling unexpectedly, one evening, on Proc- 
tor's mounted " Cowboy " in front of the 
Transportation Building, were so stimulated 
by the spectacle that they set to work then and 
there to pry it off its pedestal and pitch it into 
the Lagoon. Most unfortunately they were in- 
terrupted in the execution of their public-spir- 
ited design by the peremptory orders of Buffalo 
Bill himself, supported by an army of Colum- 
bian Guards. 

Near the centre of the Mines Building is an 
exhibit from the South African Diamond Fields, 
showing how they wash out the stones from 

4 



38 The Fairest of th^ Fair, 

the clay, and cut and polish them for the mar- 
ket. There is always a jam of people at this 
spot, but by being patient, I managed to see it 
all. The grey clay in which the diamonds are 
found is put into a machine which swirls it 
about and pours water over it, until the clay is 
dissolved and most of it washed away. What 
remains is carefully searched by one man after 
another until the stones — looking very unlike 
diamonds — are all found. They are then given 
over to another set of men, who do the cutting 
and polishing, and thus bring out their interior 
fire, and make them gleam hke stars. The 
chief figures in the prehminary department are 
two Zulus, one a perfect giant, and both pow- 
erful, well-made men. Sometimes they wear 
their native costume — a strip of cloth round 
the loins, and beautiful necklaces, armlets and 
fringes showing bright against their ebony 
skins. At other times they wear a Chicago 
flannel shirt and overalls. The bigger of the 
two is said to have assegaied twelve men, and 
he has a club with him that looks awful. 

West of the Mines Building is the be-painted 
Transportation, filled with models or examples 
of every means used in the world for getting 



The Fairest of the Fair. 39 

about over land and sea, — from a period reach- 
ing back to the time when people simply 
walked, down to the present moment, or a lit- 
tle beyond it. The figures of the naked, bare- 
foot savages, plodding along with no artificial 
assistance whatever, except a stick cut in the 
forest, are in the South American section ; but 
I suppose this was the way we all began. 
Next you find them on horseback, with no sad- 
dle, but with a bridle made of a looped leather 
thong. Near by are a couple of llamas, with 
pack saddles on their backs, and also a va- 
quero in picturesque clothes, seated on a horse 
decked out with a gorgeous bit and saddle. 
There is an ox-cart with solid wooden wheels, 
and a kind of palanquin to be carried by 
asses. Not far from this are the newest and 
most beautiful carriages made in America, 
England, France and Germany. Coaches, 
Tilburies, Broughams and Dog-Carts ; heavy 
and dignified ceremonial carriages, and the 
lightest of American trotting sulkies stand side 
by side. In the British section is a coach be- 
longing to the Lord Mayor of London, and a 
beauty it is ! Everything about it is rich, 
solemn, graceful and in keeping — from the 



40 The Fairest of the Fair, 

coat-of-arms or crest on the door-panel to the 
dark hning within. 

In the extension of the Main Building there 
are numberless railway engines, and, indeed, 
entire trains. England and Germany and 
France show their first, second and third class 
carriages, all in sections, and the first class 
most elaborately fitted up. There are Ameri- 
can vestibule and dining cars too, and just out- 
side the Building stand the first engine and 
train of coaches ever run in America. The 
engine is an astonishing-looking little thing, 
with a very long neck and queer machinery ; 
and the coaches are very much like the old 
Rocky Mountain mail coaches — with seats on 
top, inside, in front and behind. It is a worn 
and battered little train, and as unusable-look- 
ing as the Columbus caravels on the Lake. 

In the " Cook's Tours " Pavilion are models 
about three feet in length of the dahabeyas 
used on the Nile. They have also a model of 
some Egyptian temple, which is explained to 
the visitor by a couple of turbaned and caf- 
taned Egyptians. The elder of the two has 
been a guide on a dahabeya for many years, 
and has a glorious, many-lettered name which 



The Fairest of the Fair, 41 

I cannot now remember. He speaks excellent 
English, and French, too, and has been pretty 
nearly all over the world. After he has finished 
his talk about the temple — and a very interest- 
ing talk it is — he is ready to answer the ques- 
tions of the audience,^ He admits that America 
is the finest country in the world, but adds, in 
a self-pitying tone, that he still prefers Egypt 
for himself. He says if you come there you 
will find many friends, and asks you to be sure 
and take his dahabeya, and he will show you 
everything worth seeing on the Nile. Turning 
round, at this point, he shows the model of the 
lovely boat, and explains that the model is 
much smaller than the original — because he 
overheard a young lady in the crowd say to 
her friend, "Why, Effie, what little bits of 
things they are ! " 

About half way down the central aisle is a 
very large model of the ill-fated "Victoria," 
the Enghsh iron-clad that was sunk by the 
" Camperdown." After the accident, the model 
was draped in black, and a throng of people 
were always looking at it, and quoting to one 
another the newspaper articles on the subject. 
There are smaller models of nearly all the 



42 The Fairest of the Fair. 

well-known ocean steamships, and of the war- 
ships of several countries. They are exquisitely 
finished things, with their graceful lines, their 
spotless decks, and sparkling metal-work, and 
every least detail perfectly reproduced. There 
is also a section, life-size, of a Red Star steamer, 
showing specimens of state-rooms, steerage, 
smoking-room, part of dining-room, a bridal 
apartment of two dainty little rooms beautifully 
furnished ; the deck promenade, — and in short 
everything just as it is before the vessel leaves 
the dock, and the passengers have begun to 
feel sea-sick. 

Besides these highly civilized boats, there are 
birch-bark canoes, craft from the South Pacific 
and Alaska, all beautiful and graceful in their 
ways. In the gallery is a model of a fishing- 
boat used in the Sea of Galilee in the time of 
Christ ; it is very short and broad, painted red 
and blue. In the same exhibit are some grace- 
ful water-jars of black terra-cotta ; and skins 
with hair on the outside, also for carrying 
water. And there are saddles for camels and 
donkeys ; and different kinds of palanquins, 
such as are used in Jerusalem. 

There are numbers of bicycles here, light and 



The Fairest of the Fair. 43 

strong and pretty to see. All are " Safeties," 
except a few old-fashioned ones, which are put 
there for fun, and which show very ungainly 
beside the modern wheels. There is a rickety 
old iron safety, which belonged to a former 
Earl of Durham, and was made in 18 10. He 
must have had a lot of trouble to make it go. 

In the Japanese section are some beautiful 
bridges, and a model of the Ogaki Sluice, first 
built in 1 69 1, but since renovated. Down- 
stairs are models of several of their war-ships ; 
but I looked in vain for a Jinricksha. In the 
Chinese section are junks, about two feet in 
length, many-colored and queer-shaped, with 
sails made of matting. Elsewhere there is 
an ungainly dug-out — or burnt-out — for the 
hollowing has been done by fire, — as can be 
seen by the blackened edges. 

The upshot of my studies in the Transporta- 
tion Building was, that there are a great many 
expedients for getting from one place to an- 
other, in this world, and all of them have cer- 
tain advantages. But, as I went out, I remem- 
bered that I was walking, even as the primitive 
people whose wooden effigies I had seen at the 
other end of the building are represented as 



44 The Fairest of the Fair. 

doing ; and that coincidence seemed to bridge 
the gulf between the old time and the new. 
( I am much more familiar with the lovely ex- 
terior of the Palace of Mechanic Arts than with 
its whirring and revolving contents ; wheels 
great and small, clicking hammers, long arms 
that move endlessly back and forth, remorse- 
less planes that pass resistlessly over iron 
plates, shaving off curled pieces that keep 
falling with a chink-chink; great machines 
with countless wheels all of different sizes, 
some moving almost imperceptibly, and others 
humming with the speed of their revolutions ; 
many clinking things that go up and down and 
back and forth and drop into one another and 
slip out again ; machines powerful enough, a[)- 
parently, to move the globe, which only make 
something infinitesimally and absurdly small 
compared with themselves — as if Atlas were to 
thread needles instead of holding up the sky; 
— all these things are impressive, and are 
perhaps more useful than architecture ; but 
they are not beautiful. 

Here I saw how paper is made ; and cork- 
screws were turned out of a bit of wire before 
my eyes ; and printing-presses transformed 



The Fairest of the Fair. 47 

large blank sheets into a bundle of neatly- 
folded pages, inscribed with the wit and wisdom 
— or the reverse — of the world ; and heaps of 
tobacco and strips of rice-paper went into a 
hopper at one end, and reappeared as packets 
of cigarettes at the other. The most fascinat- 
ing thing I saw was a potter's wheel, with its 
whirhng lumps of clay, changing their shape 
with each touch given them by the potter, till 
he cut a piece off with a bit of string, and there 
was a damp, grey vase or bowl, which he set 
aside amongst its predecessors on a shelf. I 
looked at that for a long time, greatly longing 
to make something, myself, out of the cool, 
soft material. 

The next most agreeable thing is the large 
water-tank in the centre of the building, spanned 
by a bridge, and ahve with fountains, which 
swirl and splash and spatter with a pleasant, 
soothing sound, very different from the hoarse 
clang and clatter of the machines. There is 
also a section of an immense iron tube, so big 
that a man six feet tall can walk through it 
erect. All men anywhere near that height, 
who come within sight of the steps leading 
up to the tube, do walk through it, and emerge 



48 The Fairest of the Fair. 

at the other end suffused with joy, if they 
have been obhged to take off their hats on 
entering. 

What one chiefly notices in the Hall, how- 
ever, is the sense of irresistible power and tire- 
less motion which the machines convey, and 
the awe inspired by the seeming reason which 
they possess, combined with their insensibility 
to pain or pity. What terrible Frankenstein- 
monsters would these things be, were the ap- 
parent life that courses through them be made 
real by some magic spell of evil ! Even the 
antediluvian mammoths and mastodons in the 
Anthropological Building would stand no chance 
against them. 

There is a quiet, country peacefulness within 
the beautiful walls of the Agricultural Building, 
and a faint smell of hay and corn and meadow- 
produce. Nearly all the State exhibits are pavil- 
ions, whose roofs, walls and pillars are deco- 
rated with characteristic grains and grasses in 
various patterns. The Southern States employ 
cotton for this purpose, the snow-white, fluffy 
stuff clinging to the brown and withered stalks, 
and tempting one to handle it — which is, how- 
ever, forbidden by the ubiquitous " Hands-Off " 



The Fairest of the Fair. 49 

sign. "Please" is occasionally added, but as 
an after-thought in pencil. 

Near the west entrance is Japan's pavilion, 
made of bamboo and coarse green matting, 
and distinguished by the pretty white flag with 
the red disc in its centre. Within are gigantic 
porcelain jars filled with teas and covered with 
pieces of red and gold silk, fastened round the 
mouth of the jar with a gold cord. Square 
boxes or hampers of matting, with cabalistic 
characters writ upon them in black and red 
ink also contain tea. There are rows of beau- 
tiful bottles full of sake and other Japanese 
liquors with delightful names ; bales of matting 
like that on the floors of the cottages on 
Wooded Island ; packages of huge tobacco 
leaves tied together with bits of silk ribbon ; 
and boxes of cigarettes and prepared tobaccos. 
On the opposite side of the room is a collection 
of stuffed birds, including a couple of cocks 
that I thought were alive until I noticed that 
they were not. These Japanese cocks are not 
at all like ours — so far, at least, as the length 
and fashion of their tails is concerned. One 
of them is perched on a stick at least eight feet 
from the ground^ and his black-green tail 



50 The Fairest of the Fair. 

feathers hang down in sweeping curves and 
rest upon the floor. The tail of the other is 
only about half as long, but more luxuriant. 
In the Main Building, Japanese section, is a 
bronze model of a cock of this species, which, 
when I first saw it, I took to be a pretty fancy 
of the artist. But here is the very bird, per- 
haps, who posed for the model in Flowery 
Japan, before he became simply stuffed ! 

In the Liberian exhibit are — besides samples 
of their produce — queer wooden masks worn 
by the savages, resembling those used by the 
Alaskan Indians in the south corner of the 
Grounds. I saw also some cinctures made of 
colored grasses, and, in the way of weapons, 
bows, clubs and spears. There are many 
handsome skins and a collection of stuffed 
animals. I should like to know how it happens 
that the Alaskans and the Liberians wear the 
same fashion of mask. The Alaskans re- 
semble the northern Japanese in feature, though 
they are of a lower type. 

A little east of Liberia is a monument built 
of solid chocolate. It must be at least twenty 
feet high ; nothing looks its full size in these 
great buildings. The atmosphere round about 



The Fairest of the Fair, 5 1 

is full of its perfume. As I drew near, I began 
to feel hungry ; and in order to keep from 
marring the symmetry of its outline by break- 
ing off a mouthful or two (while the Columbian 
Guard was flirting with the pretty girl who sells 
soda-water checks near by) — I was obliged to 
buy a bag of pop-corn, which was the next best 
smelling thing in that neighborhood. Prob- 
ably, too, the chocolate would not have tasted 
so good as it looked. Not far off is the largest 
cheese ever made, from Canada. It smells, 
also, but not so tempting. 

The British Guiana exhibit is very rich in 
polished woods, and in stuffed birds and ani- 
mals. One of the birds is a very small pink 
crane or ibis, which I heard called a flamingo 
several times. On the other hand, two beau- 
tiful flamingoes in the Government Building 
always arouse much question as to what they 
are. Natural History does not seem to be a 
favorite study now-a-days. The Fair is a good 
place to begin it in. There are many fine col- 
lections of animals, not only in the Govern- 
ment Building, but in some of the State Build- 
ings — Kansas especially ; and in Anthropolog- 
ical Hall, 



52 The Fairest of the Fair, 

The Cape Colony department is interesting. 
Besides the sacks of merino wool, the grains, 
the Buchu leaves with their delicious odor, the 
whiskies, brandies and wines, there are a couple 
of stuffed Fat-tailed Sheep, a Boer goat, several 
ostriches — some but six weeks old, — ostrich 
eggs, some of them decorated with colored 
sketches and patterns, many beautiful prepared 
ostrich feathers, and a fine collection of Zulu 
weapons and ornaments — such as assegais, 
light and sharp and strong, long spears, shields, 
heavy bracelets, anklets and necklaces ; and 
a lot of curious pots and bowls. 

In England's exhibit is a model of the 
famous Brookfield Stud, with the paddocks, 
stables, barns, grooms and horses, on a scale 
about one-fiftieth the natural size Even the 
straw in the barnyard is reproduced in minia- 
ture. It made me wish I had a stud like it ; 
especially after I had seen photographs of 
the splendid horses. There was a model of a 
French farm, too, and it was also a model of 
neatness and economy of space. 

In the south wing of the building are the 
implements and machinery used in modern 
scientific farming. I saw beautiful ploughs 



The Fairest of the Fair. 53 

and harrows, nickel-plated and furbished ; 
carts all over wheels and steel teeth, which do 
wonderful things with grain and corn ; silk- 
weaving machines ; grass and hay-cutters ; and 
things that — if you harness them to a horse or 
two, and then sit on a little seat high up — ^wiU 
turn a bare, stony field into a rich meadow of 
waving grain, and cut it, and tie it up in bun- 
dles, and heap the bundles in regular lines, all 
at once — or nearly. The httle seats look quite 
comfortable, too. It seems as if the modern 
scientific farmer would become a very indolent 
and luxurious person, if this improvement in 
his machinery keeps on. 



V. 

As long as you stay within the magic circle 
of the Great Basin Buildings of which Agricul- 
tural and Machinery Palaces and the station 
of the Intramural Railway — another beautiful 
building — are the southern boundaries, you are 
unaware of the existence of the South End of 
the grounds — a world in itself. 

I discovered it on coming out of the south 
door of the Agricultural ; and the first thing I 
noticed was a collection of windmills. They 
were of all varieties, from a model, full size, of 
Blooker's Cocoa Mill, built a century ago in 
Holland, to the most modern and sagacious 
contrivances for pumping water into a country 
villa's cistern. The latter, like so many now- 
a-day things, are as ugly as they are useful; 
whereas the old, inconvenient ones are pictur- 
esque and quaint. In the Golden Age to come, 
I hope they will be both picturesque and useful. 
What with the flat country, the wide-spread 
lake, the broad sky, and the help of two or 

54 



The Fairest of the Fair, 5 5 

three of the squat Httle old windmills, I could 
almost fancy myself in the Netherlands. Nor 
should I have been surprised ; for after a week 
or two at the Fair, I had got quite in the habit 
of stepping out of America into remote parts of 
the world at a moment's notice. 

In an arm of the lagoon near by lies a gen- 
uine old whaler of Nantucket or New Bedford ; 
a worn-looking old creature, with a sulky as- 
pect, as if the fresh water which laps along its 
black sides were not at all to its taste. It was 
thinking of the stormy passage of the Horn, 
and ot the expanse of the mighty Pacific ; of 
the scorching calms of the Doldrums, and the 
immitigable tempests of the stormy north ; and 
of the months and years of waiting, while the 
look-out sat in the mast head, and all ears 
were alert to catch the cry, •' There she blows !" 
Those stirring times were all past for the old 
whaler now, and never would come back. And 
instead of laying her oaken bones at the bot- 
tom of the ocean she had survived to be a 
show at the World's Fair at Chicago, a thou- 
sand miles from the nearest salt water ! It 
was, after all, the strangest adventure of her 
career, and the saddest ! I could not bear to 



56 The Fairest of the Fair, 

go on board of her, and, for ten cents, see 
" more than ten thousand marine curiosities." 
Why did she not " sink to Hell," hke Ahab's 
ship, that pursued Moby Dick round the world ? 
The poor old Whaler ! much more spectral, 
lying there, than if she had perished a genera- 
tion ago. 

A Httle way beyond is a settlement of Alaskan 
Indians, in rough wooden shanties, with gigan- 
tic carved and painted totem posts before the 
doors. The carvings represent hideous human 
faces and dwarfed figures, squatting on one 
another's shoulders, with bird-unhke creatures 
called ravens intervening ; and strange gods, 
with their knees drawn up to their chins. 
These posts are the Alaskan way of represent- 
ing the family genealogical trees ; I suppose 
only the line of direct descent can be shown in 
them. 

I went into one of the biggest of the huts. 
Seven or eight savages were sitting on the bare 
ground, wrapped in beautiful blankets. Pres- 
ently two or three of them got up and danced — 
not at all in the fierce and graceful style of the 
Sioux braves ; but with grotesque movements, 
like those of a seal hopping about and brand- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 57 

ishing its flippers. The others remained seated, 
and furnished music for the dance by striking 
pieces of wood together, and occasionally call- 
ing out something in a mumbling voice. Then 
one of the dancers retreated behind a piece of 
hide hung up as a curtain, and came out again 
with a pair of bear's paws on his hands ; he 
growled hke a bear, and rolled on the ground, 
and made dashes at the spectators. It was 
just like children playing at wild animals. 
Then he disappeared again, and was gone 
quite a long time, during which the other In- 
dians ceased their thumping. Once in a while 
a strange roar or growl would be heard from 
behind the curtain. At last there appeared in 
front of the curtain a figure completely dis- 
guised in a bear skin, and looking very like a 
bear on its hind legs ; only, instead of a bear's 
face, he had on an ugly wooden mask, painted 
black. He did not dance, nor advance from 
the curtain, but stayed there, making grunting 
sounds, and shaking and nodding his head, 
and laying his paws beside it, as if he had the 
toothache. The others kept up a thumping 
and shouting all the while. This, I suppose, 
is the Alaskan notion of a dramatic entertain- 



58 The Fairest of the Fair. 

ment. It is a big world that can hold such 
actors as that savage, and Booth, Irving and 
Joe Jefferson ! 

There are some tepees in the neighborhood, 
containing some tame Indians of the Penob- 
scot tribe, I believe ; they make baskets and 
other things for sale. The men wander about 
smoking, clad in American clothes. I do not 
like to see tame Indians ; they seem not ele- 
vated, but degraded. This was the reason I 
did not go into the Indian School, where, I 
was told, they wore their hair cut short and 
worked as ordinary artisans, with white task- 
masters sitting over them. It is much better 
to go to Buffalo Bill's. 

The French colonies of Tonquin, Annam, 
New Caledonia and Algiers have some small 
buildings here. The Algerian is curved like 
the new moon, and is painted white and deco- 
rated with tiles ; it consists of a series of small 
bazars, open on one side. The other buildings 
are square, with wide eaves, and are painted 
dark. They contain teas, silks, pretty fans 
and small carvings ; and in the midst sit little 
cross-legged gods and goddesses, with joined 
hands. 



The Fairest of the Fair. 59 

The Caves of the CHff Dwellers appear to 
be made of sheet iron or tin painted brown. 
They contain relics of the lost race, and a 
couple of contemporary burros, pretty and 
affectionate little creatures. On the other side 
of the way are imitations of Aztecan ruins, cov- 
ered with characteristic carvings. But the 
Building of Ethnology and Anthropology had 
just been opened, and I lost no time in going 
there. 

"Man and his Works" is the legend in- 
scribed over the entrance. The first thing I 
saw, on the right, was a collection of Alaskan 
curiosities. There were miniature models of 
their huts, with the totem poles ; everything 
they use is carved with representations of gro- 
tesque and hideous faces and figures. There 
were some huge wooden spoons, large enough 
to hold four or five quarts, which — I was told 
by an old man who seemed to be in charge — 
were used to fill the bowls of the eaters at their 
feasts; they used smaller spoons to eat with. 
In addition to the carvings, there were hand- 
some fur blankets and cloaks, and bone and 
shell necklaces and anklets. If this people are 
really emigrants from Japan, they must have 



6o The Fairest of the Fair, 

left their native country at a time when its art 
was in a very primitive state. 

Next to. these are trophies from the western 
Indian tribes, chiefly the Sioux and Arapahoes. 
There are a great many specimens of their 
beautiful beadwork, embroidered on buckskin. 
The different modes of decoration practised by 
the tribes can be compared. Among the bows 
and arrows is a beautiful bow in a fur case 
from the Modoc tribe, about which Joaquin 
Miller wrote his delightful book. There is a 
papoose-case, solidly embroidered with beads 
— the background being blue, with a pattern in 
darker blue, and red and green. These Indians 
have an unfailing eye for color. The papoose- 
case had belonged to the daughter of Chief 
Old-Man-Afraid-Of-His-Horses. A buckskin 
Cheyenne war-shirt, with bead decoration, was 
remarkable for its fringe of scalps ; there were 
seven hundred of them, taken from Ute and 
Pawnee Indians. Each scalp is a thin whisp 
of black, shiny hair, and each represents a hfe. 
But they were not all taken by the same 
warrior ; the shirt was handed down from one 
to another; it is a hundred years old, and 
bears trophies of fights down to 1874. Another 



The Fairest of the Fair, 6i 

valuable garment is that of a Cheyenne squaw. 
It is decorated with fifteen hundred elk's eye- 
teeth, which, of course, represents the hunting 
and killing of seven hundred and fifty elk. What 
a magnificent present for an Indian lover to 
offer to his mistress ! The dress is made of 
blue woolen cloth, and the yellowish ivory 
teeth have a beautiful effect on that background. 
I also saw several war-bonnets of eagle feathers 
tipped with another kind of feathers, dyed in 
bright colors. The finest of these was so long 
that, though it was on the head of a figure full 
six feet tall, twelve inches of it lay on the floor. 
It was the property of Powder-Face, Chief of 
the Arapahoes, the best and bravest fighter of 
his time. 

Further south is the Australasian exhibit. It 
consists of ornaments, weapons and utensils of 
the natives, and of a splendid collection of 
photographs, many of them life-size. Besides 
portraits of the men and women, there are 
views of their villages and structures. Some 
of the portrait photographs — the Fijian and 
Samoan warriors, a Samoan girl, and a couple 
of Tongan belles — show superb men and 
women, with fine figures and handsome faces. 



62 The Fairest of the Fair. 

But most of the women of the Polynesian 
tribes are terrible creatures, with thin legs and 
arms, and breasts that hang down perfectly 
flat, and ugly faces. The men never look 
quite as bad, but they have a sullen expression 
on their thick features, and ungainly, though 
powerful, figures. The Fijians and Samoans 
are the only good-looking ones of the group. 
Some of them are more than good-looking ; 
their faces are beautiful, and their bodies 
splendidly proportioned and developed. Wny 
should there be such a difference between 
these islanders and the others ? The Fijians 
and Samoans in the Plaisance (of whom much 
more anon) are the handsomest men I have 
ever seen ; and yet on the neighboring islands 
are these sullen, ugly people. 

In the Australian department are a great 
many boomerangs, of different sizes, and — to 
my surprise — of different shapes, too. I had 
always thought that the curve of the boomerang 
was as exact and unchangeable as that of the 
crescent moon. But some of these are all but 
straight, and others are rectangular, and others 
of all gradations between. The wood they are 
made of is dark and hard ; they average about 



The Fairest of the Fair. 63 

two inches wide in the widest part (the middle) 
and from a third to a quarter of an inch thick. 
Most of them are about two feet long. A very 
few are a good deal larger and heavier. They 
were ornamented with graceful wavy lines or 
grooves, and occasionally with other simple 
forms of ornament. They do not look in the 
least formidable. In the New South Wales 
Building is an oil-painting of a tropical scene 
— lush vegetation and giant trees overhanging 
a stream, with a couple of natives, boomerang 
in hand, peering through the thicket at a wild 
animal. The picture is bad as to technique, 
but it is full of savage imagination and feeling. 
There is a South-Sea Island boat, whose 
sweeping lines are quite unlike the graceful 
contours of our own birch-bark canoes, but 
are not the less beautiful. It is decorated with 
shells and carvings ; no nails are used in mak- 
ing it. There is also what is called a Kaika 
bowl, oblong, of black wood, inlaid with mother- 
of-pearl and fan-shaped pieces of shell. This 
is a musical instrument, on which they play by 
striking it with sticks ; it gives out a clear, res- 
onant note. There are many other articles — - 
bowls and spoons and other things I do not know 



64 The Fairest of the Fair. 

the names of — made of this dark wood, inlaid. 
Hanging on the walls are pieces of the yellow- 
ish tapa-cloth, which is made of the pulp of a 
sort of bark, and is covered with designs in red 
and black criss-cross lines. The natives wear 
a strip of this cloth about their waists, hanging 
as far down as the knee. It is very soft and 
flexible. There are specimens of other cloth- 
ing of theirs, consisting of fringes of dry sea- 
weed or grass, which they tie about their waists 
and round their knees and arms ; and there are 
beautiful necklaces of coral and shells. But 
these things represent their gala wardrobe ; on 
ordinary occasions they wear very much less. 

Mexico is here in the shape of some Aztec 
relics, and specimens of the shields and spears 
of the present natives. There are models of 
dehghtful square houses built about courts, with 
broad verandas and narrow windows. 

Off in one corner of the building, among 
other models of anatomy, are two figures, one 
of a man and the other of a gorilla. They are 
without the skin, so as to show the muscular 
structure. The contrast is great. Although 
the model of the man shows a strong and well- 
developed body, it is nothing besides the terrific 



The Fairest of the Fair. 65 

power of the great ape. The long, thick trunk, 
broad and deep chest and giant shoulders of 
the latter, and his long arms, as big round the 
biceps as a large man's thigh ; and his short 
crooked legs, heavy-jawed head and thick 
neck, — are the acme of brutal and irresistible 
strength. There is nothing beautiful about 
him ; all is hideous and repulsive. 

In the gallery upstairs is a collection of ani- 
mals badly stuffed. Among them is a camel 
.... even his supercilious and haughty 
brethren in Cairo Street would lose their ex- 
pression of cool, sneering indifference, were 
they to behold such a pitiful parody as this. A 
camel is not beautiful at best ; but a camel 
stuffed as this one is, is awful indeed. 

There is a Mammoth, which towered above 
me like a hairy, black hill. His legs were like 
great dead boles of trees, with the frayed bark 
clinging to them ; they were too big for my 
arms to clasp them in the smallest part. Two 
yellow tusks, curving widely outwards and up- 
wards, seem big enough to crush the degener- 
ate elephant of our times with their weight 
alone. The eyes are the only small things 
about the creature, and I suppose they would 



66 The Fairest of the Fair. 

look big too, anywhere else than in his head. 
Seriously, he is very large ; and yet I had a 
feeling that my previous idea of a mammoth 
had been even bigger than he. Perhaps, if I 
had met him, alive, in a prediluvian forest, he 
would have appeared entirely satisfactory. 

In this gallery are many shells, from some as 
tiny as a grain of sand to others a foot or two 
long. However small they may be, their forms 
are always graceful and their colors dainty. 
Some of the larger ones gleam and glisten with 
a thousand lovely hues. Others are soft brown 
and pink, and covered with spines ; others so 
white and delicate as to seem made of sea 
foam. Here was the exquisite paper nautilus ; 
and beside it, a long, pointed, twined shell of 
the most charming rose color, in which some 
creature of the deep sea must have spent a 
sweet existence, I should think. 

Butterflies and bugs of every sort are here, 
and birds' eggs, white, speckled, green, blue, 
brown, pink, and of all sizes. The largest and 
the smallest of known eggs were placed side 
by side. The big one was about three times 
as large as an ostrich ^gg ; the bird who laid 
it has long been extinct, with all its relatives. 



The Fairest of the Fair. 67 

The small one was snow white, the size of a 
new green pea, and — had fate been kind — 
would have developed into a tiny green hum- 
ming-bird. There is plenty of difference be- 
tween these two eggs ; and I was glad that 
men are so much more nearly of a size than 
birds — unless, of course, I could be one of the 
rocs, or at any rate an eagle. 

But I cannot tell all the things that are in 
this building ; there were models of hospitals, 
Turkish baths, gymnastic paraphernalia of all 
kinds, casts of Greek statues .... whatnot! 
And in this same corner of the grounds are the 
Forestry Building, with its innumerable beau- 
tiful woods, and the Leather Building, with a 
collection of all the kinds of shoes ever worn ; 
and Krupp's Gun Factory, with a cannon in it 
as lon^ as a ship's mast, and as big round the 
butt as the great beer tun of Heidelberg ; and 
the model of the Spanish Mission, in which is 
every known or imaginable relic of Colum- 
bus ; and the model Dairy Kitchen, and other 
things. 

But I am tired of being indoors, and want to 
get out again, by the sunny lake, and on the 
green lawns ; I want to breathe the sweet sum- 



68 



The Fairest of the Fair. 



mer air, and watch the moving people, and see 
the white palaces and silver lagoons, and look 
up at the blue sky with its own cloud castles, 
lovelier even than the lovely structures of the 
Great Fair. 




VI. 

What a noble curve is that of the lake shore 
between the northern extremity of the Peristyle 
and the brick battle-ship, " Illinois ! " A great, 
generous sweep of smooth promenade, with the 
slope down to the water's edge solidly paved ; 
lighted at night by the brilliant Brush electric 
lamps, shining like a chain of moons. Here, 
every day, plays the Cincinnati Band, and it is 
good to sit and listen to it, gazing out the while 
over the limitless water, where the whale-back 
steamers plough back and forth between the 
distant, smoky city and the long pier which 
projects from the Peristyle. 

The incoming boats are black with people, 
many of whom must be arriving here for the 
first time to visit the City of Delight ; and it 
will be their own fault if their high hopes are 
not more than fulfilled. The few unfortunates 
who are taking their final departure carry with 
them my heart felt sympathy. I cannot distin- 
guish their faces, but even at this distance I 
6 69 



70 The Fairest of the Fair. 

can feel that they are sad ; the boats them- 
selves look gloomy. 

Behind me is the long extent of the Main 
Building, under whose arcade tables and chairs 
are placed, and people sit there eating and 
drinking, while waiters glide hither and thither, 
balancing piles of plates and glasses. There 
are several restaurants in this building, French, 
German and American. They are not, all 
things considered, unreasonably dear ; but if 
there is even a fair attendance of customers, I 
found it expedient to have a bump of patience 
all prepared. 

On one such occasion, I sat down at a long 
counter inside the restaurant, on a his^h stool. 
I could not leach the floor with my feet, and 
the stool was uncomfortable ; so that I longed 
to finish and be gone. After awhile, a haughty- 
looking girl came up and regarded me intently, 
and with seeming surprise. I began to ask 
her to . . . . But she turned her back and 
sauntered off. More time passed, and another 
girl appeared. She leaned against the counter 
not far off, and I thought she had a sympathetic 
expression. I asked her for food ; but she said, 
with evident satisfaction, that she didn't wait in 



The Fairest of the Fair. 7 1 

this section. I, however, continued waiting, 
and by and by the haughty maiden came by 
once more. This time she threw down a menu- 
card, and passed on without a glance. I de- 
cided on my order, read the card from top to 
bottom and back again, took my sunshade 
from the adjoining stool (because another lady 
had come), and tried to prop it up against the 
counter. After it had fallen twice, I gave that 
up. Then the Princess — she must have been 
that, at least — came again, took my order, and 
presently returned with half of it — that half, as 
it happened, which 1 desired to eat last. How- 
ever, I finished in what order it pleased God; 
and as I retired, I looked back. The young 
lady on the adjoining stool was gazing dis- 
tractedly about, with only a jar of pickles 
within reach ; and the Princess was chatting 
languidly in a distant corner with the sympa- 
thetic girl, and two others. 

It is not always so bad as this. The Java 
and Turkish restaurants, in Midway Plaisance, 
are very good and cheap ; and so is the 
"Farmer's Dinner" in the same place, where 
you can get all the baked beans, Boston brown- 
bread, doughnuts and coffee you can eat for 



72 The Fairest of the Fair. 

fifty cents ; served by a pretty girl in a mob- 
cap. 

After listening to the Cincinnati Band, I got 
up and strolled along the esplanade to the brick 
battle-ship. Just beyond is the English Build- 
ing, called Victoria House. It is built in the 
style of an English EUzabethan country house, 
and stands within an enclosure, commanding 
a fine view from its rear windows of the Lake. 
It is open to the public only during two hours 
in the afternoon ; but I was fortunate enough 
to know some one who had the open-sesame to 
it, and was therefore able to inspect its beauti- 
ful rooms and carved oak furniture and deco- 
rations at my ease. In front of this house is 
the group of " America " from the Albert 
Memorial in Hyde Park. It is exceedingly 
bad ; the artist's notion of the costume of an 
American pioneer is deliciously simple ; I think 
even a red Indian would consider it too slight 
a thing. As for the object which I presume 
must have been intended to represent a buffalo, 
I will not attempt to criticise it. 

All the State and Foreign Buildings are in 
this north end of the Park. It is a charming 
region, green with smooth turf and verdurous 



The Fairest of the Fair. 73 

trees, and intersected by broad, well-kept walks. 
Facing the Lake front are the Buildings of Ger- 
many, France, Spain and Ceylon. Germany's 
is very pretentious, with spires and peaks and 
several entrances, accessible by flights of steps. 
The outer walls are decorated with inscriptions 
in German characters glorifying the Vaterland. 
Within are innumerable articles more or less 
interesting, from the collection of handsomely 
bound and illustrated books, to a room-full of 
wooden saints in gaudily painted raiment. 
Spain's Building resembles a church ; it was 
not open during my stay. It is square and 
white, with a great arched doorway and win- 
dows of stained glass. France's is also white, 
and is gracefully built round a semi-circular 
court planted with flowers. The Ceylon House 
is square, with two wings north and south. 
Over the middle entrance is a tower, contain- 
ing a room reached by a cork-screw staircase. 
Here you are served with Ceylon tea gratis. 
The first day that the announcement was 
made, however, crowds of people jammed 
up there in compact masses, drank tea by the 
bucketful, carried off sugar in their pockets, 
and broke some of the Indian porcelain cups. 



74 The Fairest of the Fair. 

The Zinghalese, who have themselves excellent 
manners, were surprised ; and thenceforth only 
two or three persons were permitted to go up 
at a time. 

These Zinghalese — who are distinguished 
from the Ceylonese as being descendants of the 
original inhabitants of the island — are rather 
small and very dark. Many wear beards ; 
their hair is coiled in a Psyche knot, with a 
tortoise-shell comb in it. Their costume con- 
sists of a short jacket, and a straight piece of 
cloth wrapped round them petticoat-wise, and 
descending nearly to their feet. They some- 
times wear white turbans. 

In their building, scattered about, are many 
little "sacred" black elephants, some carry- 
ing hovvdahs, and others au nature/. At the 
end of the north wing are two Buddhas ; and I 
heard a man, note-book in hand, ask the 
Zinghalese in charge what "Buddha" was in 
English ? 

But the Zinghalese did not know. 

There are some swords here so beautiful that 
I would almost be willing to die by one of them. 
The very smallest and most insignificant house- 
hold article is as graceful in shape, and as 



The Fairest of the Fair. 75 

finely carved and decorated, as if it were to be 
the chief ornament of the house. Tea is for sale 
in tin-foil packages, with an elephant stamped 
on the white label ; and this is also to be had 
in the Ceylon Pavilion of the Main Building; 
and in the Women's Building likewise. In the 
latter it is sold by a couple of little Zinghalese 
women, with jewels in their noses and all over 
their pretty ears ; and between the girdle of 
their skirts and the bottom of their short white 
sleeveless jackets is visible a breadth of lovely 
brown flesh. The tea has a peculiar, delicious 
flavor and costs but a dollar a pound. 

The little East Indian Palace is one of the 
most beautiful and foreig-n-lookino; in the 

o o 

Grounds, though it was designed by an Ameri- 
can architect. It is tinted with a marvellous 
combination of delicate hues, yellow predomi- 
nating; the triple-arched entrance is upheld 
by slender columns, and fretted like lace. 
The windows on either side reach to the floor, 
and are used as doors. They open on ve- 
randas, that on the right having tables, at 
which you may sit and be served with tea 
by a dark Hindoo, with a keen, handsome 
face, and clad in a scarlet robe embroidered 



"j^ The Fairest of the Fair. 

with gold, reaching nearly to the ankles and 
confined at the loins with a silken sash. 

This lovely Palace contains nothing that I 
did not instantly want — even the strange idols 
sitting cross-legged, with the soles of their feet 
turned up. There are long, flint-lock guns in- 
laid with silver, ivory and mother of pearl, their 
hammers chased with delicate designs. Silks 
and woolens are draped about, in colors stolen 
from morning flowers. Rugs and hangings and 
embroideries abound, which there are no Eng- 
lish adjectives to describe. The interior is a 
square room, with a gallery surrounding it. 
Beneath the gallery are other tables, where you 
sit and pour tea out of odd, graceful silver tea- 
pots into cups of thinnest porcelain, painted by 
hand. 

Many of the State Buildings I did not enter, 
for many of them are private houses, not in 
appearance only, but practically in intention 
also, being meant for the use of the natives of 
the several States as places of reunion, and for 
official functions. New York has a handsome 
mansion, white and imposing, and rich in fur- 
niture and decoration. Pennsylvania's is not 
so handsome, but it has a clock in its tower, 




JC"'- 



The Fairest of the Fair, 

which is a source of comfort to those 
who really want to know what time 
it is — a foolish thinsf. 

I entered the building in order 
to see the Liberty Bell ; it was 
the one thing I did while at the 
Fair from a sense of duty, and 
I have ever since regretted it; 
for instead of the hazy and de- 
lightful fancy I had formed of a 
wonderful bell, unlike all others, ^. 
invested with a shadow of memories 
and a halo of prophecy, I carried away a dis- 
tinct impression of a bell, antique and graceful 
enough, to be sure, but, naturally, no more 
than just a bell, in spite of the two huge 
policemien, with clubs, who stood beside it as 
a body-guard. 

The architecture of the California Building 
recalls the old Spanish missions which were 
built along the Pacific coast hundreds of years 
ago; but it is larger than any mission, and as 
large, I should think, as any of the State build- 
ings. It is white, with red-tiled, domed roofs, 
widespread, hospitable and picturesque. Inside 
are assembled specimens of the mineral and 

n 



yS The Fairest of the Fair. 

vegetable products of the State, a model of the 
port of San Francisco, a tame fox, a restaurant 
and a picture gallery, containing a good picture 
of a sunset. 

In front of the Utah Building is a statue of 
Brigham Young. It seemed to me strange to 
put him forward in this way, for if he did "open 
the State " his memory is hardly to be honored. 
In the building I saw some Indian trophies and 
a mummy of a cliff dweller — a horrible object, 
with claw-Uke fingers and an incomplete face. 

Idaho houses herself in a log cabin, lovely 
but stupendous. The rooms have glorious big 
fireplaces, in which whole logs could be burnt. 
In front of them are broad benches to be com- 
fortable in, and books in niches on either side. 
Here, too, was a war shirt, fringed with scalps, 
one or two of which had, methought, a reddish 
gold tinge. Down-stairs, attached to a water- 
cooler, was a cup of solid silver, out of which 
everybody made a point of drinking, whether 
thirsty or not. 

In the Kansas Building, in addition to some 
stuffed animals and an idiotic little train of cars 
which kept running round a gallery and tooting 
its whistle shrilly at intervals, was a picture. 



The Fairest of the Fair, 79 

This picture showed a number of heads ; one 
of a strong-minded woman, with a severe cast 
of countenance and a pair of spectacles, and 
others of an Indian, an idiot, a maniac, and a 
Chinaman. It was called Woman and Her 
Political Equals. An old man stood before 
this magnificent work of art, lost in contempla- 
tion. As I approached, he sighed, "Ain't it an 
awful contrast!" and plodded down-stairs, 
shaking his head ; for the painting is in one of 
the up-stairs rooms. 

Turkey is lodged in a dark, wide-eaved edi- 
fice, ornamented with the open-work wood 
carving peculiar to Mohammedans, and known 
as Meshrebieh, The interior walls are enriched 
with what I presume (I cannot read them) to be 
quotations from the Koran ; and over the en- 
trance is a picture of a city with winding streets 
and mosques and minarets — Constantinople, 
perhaps. Rugs, caftans and Turkish garments 
of all kinds hang in cases on the walls ; there 
are white stockings, embroidered, and yellow 
shoes, with turned-up toes ; there are a sort of 
sandals, too, or pattens, made of hard wood in- 
laid with ivory and mother of pearl, and raised 
from three to ten inches off the ground by 



8o The Fairest of the Fair. 

slender supports, also inlaid. They are kept 
on the feet by a strip of embroidered velvet 
passing over the instep. The Turkish women 
in Midway Plaisance wear them, and it is won- 
derful with what ease and grace they get about 
in them. There are books, exquisitely bound 
and printed ; and a book of music, not printed 
(though I should have supposed it to be so had 
not the Turk in charge told me otherwise), but 
with the score embroidered by hand on leaves 
of gossamer silk. There are tobacco pipes with 
stems five or six feet long; and nargilehs of 
porcelain or glass, painted, chased or gilded, 
and fitted with long, twisted amber-tipped 
mouth pieces — the very poetry of smoking. 
There are cymbals and gongs of brass, and in- 
laid and carved walking-sticks. But in the 
Japanese section of the Main Building are canes 
even more beautiful, exquisitely carved from 
handle to ferrule. There is jewelry, rings, brace- 
lets, necklaces, pins, anklets, small daggers — 
quite different from anything we make. And 
I saw several of those peculiar little six-sided 
and six-legged tables, about eighteen inches in 
diameter and two or three feet high. Altogether, 
Turkey has made her mark upon the Fair. 



VII. 

The Fisheries Building stands at the head of 
the North Lagoon. Its warm, red-tiled roofs, 
contrasting with the cream-white of its walls, 
glow against the sky. Its many and various 
pillars support arches of all sizes, and form gal- 
leries connecting the central structure with the 
wings, through the interstices of which come 
sunny and sparkling glimpses of trees and lake. 
The detail of ornament on this building is orig- 
inal and appropriate. On one slender pillar will 
be a procession of little newts, twisting round 
and round, each on the point of nipping his 
companion's tail. The next is ornamented with 
star-fish in geometrical pattern, each pointed ray 
touching some other. Sea-horses and innumer- 
able little deep-sea creatures have been carved 
on others, to delight the eye withal. Numerous 
arched and narrow windows light the building, 
and it is surmounted by several pointed domes. 
But, with all this elaboration of ornament, there 

8i 



82 The Fairest of the Fair. 

is no confusion ; the leading idea dominates all 
the details. 

The two wings contain the fishing boats and 
implements of the various countries. In some 
places the walls are draped with nets and seines, 
brown and gray ; and with much be-pronged 
fish-spears. Dried fish are exhibited, and fish 
oils and glues, whose usefulness hardly coun- 
teracts their evil odor. 

It is the central part that is the most attract- 
ive, and it is always crowded. The room is 
circular ; the walls are surrounded with aqua- 
riums, and there is a big tank in the centre. 
The light falls in from above. A stream of 
fresh air is constantly being forced into the 
water through pipes, causing milUons of little 
silver bubbles to fly up to the surface and ex- 
plode there ; other bubbles of pure oxygen form 
on the fronds of the sea-weeds, like jewels of 
purest ray serene, indeed. Among the plants 
and rocks swim fish, eels and crabs, and sea 
anemones stick to the stones or to the glass 
sides of the vessels. Fat perch and heavy chub 
move in and out, with staring eyes ; golden- 
spotted trout dart nervously hither and thither, 
and in one tank a couple of dozen goldfish send 



The Fairest of the Fair. 83 

scarlet and golden gleams through the water. 
But the anemones, with their waving tentacles, 
like the petals of the chrysanthemum and the 
dahlia, are as lovely as anything here. In the 
big central aquarium are pike and other over- 
grown fish ; eels sHde about ; and a queer fish, 
called — Oh ! what ? — lies in the sand at the bot- 
tom, all covered but one dull eye, glaring apa- 
thetically at the curious spectator. Elsewhere 
are huge horseshoe crabs, scrambling about 
with their numerous legs, while their long, spiky 
tails move searchingly up and down. 

Vast communities of tiny fish, half an inch 
long or less, swim round in shoals, as though 
there were only one mind and wish for the 
whole number. In short, I should think that 
every one might find here his favorite creature 
of the sea — unless it happened to be an oyster, 
and perhaps carved on some window-arch, or 
ornamenting some quiet corner, even oysters 
may be discovered. At all events, fresh clams 
are to be had in the neighboring restaurant. 

North of the Liberal Arts is the Government 
Building, which, I am sorry to say, is architec- 
turally ugly. But it makes up inside for its ex- 
ternal shortcomings. Everything bearing on 



84 The Fairest of the Fair. 

these our United States is represented. For 
instance, in the Post Office department each 
method used for carrying mails is shown, from 
the gallant cowboy and mustang of the Pony Ex- 
press, and the battered and bullet-riddled Rocky 
Mountain Coach (the coach exhibited here was 
twice captured by the Indians), to the model of 
the fastest and most improved modern mail- 
train. Elsewhere are figures clad in our army 
uniforms, from those of the Revolution down to 
the present day. Live soldiers, belonging to the 
corps camped on the field behind the building, 
are sauntering about, too. The buff and blue 
costume of a brigadier of Washington's armiv — 
and a handsome and stately uniform it was — 
may be contrasted with the simple blue flannel 
worn by the business like Indian scouts of our 
own day. Here are guns, rifles, cannon and 
the U. S. A. wagons drawn by six mules, and 
carrying tents, beds and the field equipment of 
the soldiers. 

In the Patent department are models of recent 
inventions. Wonderful contrivances some of 
them are ; from an irresistible little machine for 
drawing corks out of bottles to complicated en- 
gines, with a man at hand to explain them and 



The Fairest of the Fair, 85 

show how they annihilate mountains or destroy 
distance. 

There are tanks where fish are raised from 
spawn, a grayish mass of which is made to re- 
volve in glass jars of water ; and there are sev- 
eral designs of fish-hatcheries. Here are also 
stuffed fish, and casts offish and sea lions, seals, 
and the skeleton of a giant whale, together with 
the jawbones of one yet more gigantic. Wax 
men in tarpaulins sit in fishing boats from Nan- 
tucket ; an Indian sits in his dugout with his 
spear poised, and a darkey, half asleep, sits 
fishing with his toes in a quiet pool. In glazed 
cases are corals, and green, pink, brilliant-blue 
and creamy-white crystals. 

From the Smithsonian Institute come glass 
cases containing birds and animals, arranged 
in a sort of dramatic groups, to show the man- 
ner in which they effect, for good or ill, the 
material and products of agriculture. Two or 
three crows are rooting out of the ground the 
newly-sprouted corn ; a weasel, in another case, 
has buried his sharp teeth in the throat of an 
unfortunate pullet ; a couple of sparrows wait 
on each side of a robin, ready to make a dash 
for the worm she is about to jerk out of the 

7 



86 The Fairest of the Fair, 

lawn and carry to her young. Robbers and 
murderers — only they don't know it. 

Models of Indians show the clothing of the 
various tribes and their methods of making 
things. An old man is painting a battle scene 
on a piece of hide ; a squaw embroiders a shirt, 
or makes a pair of moccasins. The most beau- 
tiful dress is that of a Pueblo Indian, consisting 
of a cincture reaching half-way down the thigh 
and cut in points, composed of brilliant breast- 
feathers of parrots — scarlet, green, yellow and 
blue, arranged and mingled with artistic skill. 
On the head of the figure was a sort of crown 
of the same material, in the same style ; round 
his neck, across his chest and round his arms 
are strings of iridescent beetle wings, and 
chains of tiny teeth from some small animal. 

A Sioux warrior, in full panoply of war, is 
mounted on a mustang. His head is encircled 
with eagle feathers, and the long crest hangs 
down over the pony's side. Bead-embroidered 
moccasins cover his feet ; a buckskin shirt, 
decorated with porcupine quills and fringes, 
leg-einfrs ornamented in like manner, and a sort 
of waistcoat, solid with beads, form the rest of 
his costume. He is armed with rifle and scalp- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 87 

ing knife. The horse is also beautifully capari- 
soned. All the Indians I have seen riding at 
Buffalo Bill's (a good many) carry the rein in 
the right hand. I wonder if this be the invari- 
able custom.^ They are perfect riders; no 
others can touch them in grace and ease, and 
riding as they do, without saddles, man and 
horse seem one. 

But there are interesting things of all kinds. 
A giant tree from California ; numerous relics 
of Washington ; manuscript grants of land in 
Colonial times ; models of bridges, dikes and 
sluices ; a great globe-map of the United States, 
with steps in front ; and in all parts of the build- 
ing are crowds of people, with the proud and 
consciously-important bearing of the American, 
who says to himself: "Uncle Sam may be 
young, but he gets there just the same ! " He 
certainly does ; and I spent many an hour in 
this house of his, without either wearying my- 
self or exhausting it. 

On coming down the steps I saw people walk- 
ing round the roof of the Big Building, the great 
height making them dwindle into insignificance. 
There goes a man who doubtless thinks himself 
.important and interesting, and feels mightily 



88 The Fairest of the Fair, 

mil, looking down on the human ants crawling 
below him ; and yet he is completely blotted 
out of sight by a flagstaff which he probably 
does not even notice. What if he were sud- 
denly to feel as small as he looks ! But I am 
myself going up there, the flagstaff notwith- 
standing ; for the view from the top of that 
mighty structure must be worth seeing. 

I ascended in a quick elevator, flying hun- 
dreds and hundreds of feet straight upwards, 
while everything grew small beneath me. Be- 
fore I could realize it I was landed on a strip 
of platform just beneath the roof, with the wide 
area of floor spread out below, crowded with 
buildings like a city, and with the roofs off, like 
that other city revealed by a certain Diable 
Boitettx, But it was fearfully hot there, and I 
was glad to get out in the cool breeze. 

Right before me is the great Lake. The east 
wind roughens it, and its waves beat restlessly 
on the paved beach, and its color changes like 
the chameleon. Far off is a little steamer, leav- 
ing behind her, as she goes eastward, a trail of 
sooty smoke. Near at hand are anchored a 
gunboat and a yacht or two, heaving slightly 
on the swell. Nearer still a long throng of peo- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 89 

pie, looking like disturbed insects, swarm along 
the esplanade and congregate round the band- 
stand. I can hear the music to which they are 
listening, mingling like a dream-harmony with 
the sound of the surf. I walk slowly towards 
the north end of the Building. There below 
Wooded Island seems to float in its lagoon, 
coquetting with its own image in the water, 
which is besprinkled with boats. I can distin- 
guish a red and amber glow from the rose gar- 
den; but the perfume will not rise to this height. 
There is the white security of the Palace of Art, 
not less supremely satisfying here than when 
close at hand. There is the red-domed Fish- 
eries, and the whole assemblage of State and 
Foreign Buildings, which, with the lawns and 
trees, and the ever-present people, make a liv- 
ing picture of life, beauty and variety. 

To the west, between me and the Electricity 
Building, lies the canal, blue as a sapphire. 
Beyond is the Transportation, with its great 
golden doorway ; and there are people on its 
roof, too, but not so high aloft as I. There 
stands Festival Hall, white, and massively sym- 
metrical, with columned portico. The crystal 
dome of Horticultural glistens in the sun. The 



90 The Fairest of the Fair, 

dainty Puck Building, and the Children's, with 
the touch of blue on its white surface, and the 
Woman's, with its parapet of statues, fill out the 
row. Still farther westward is the confused aggre- 
gation of houses, hotels, and what-not beyond the 
gates; and far off, outlined clearly on the horizon 
the giant Ferris Wheel slowly revolves. 

I turn, and see on my left the figure of the 
Republic, as beautiful as ever. Opposite, on 
the dome of Agricultural Palace, the golden 
Diana is about to let fly her arrow over the lake. 
While I am watching to see it leave the string 
a mighty cloud passes over the sun and works 
a lovely change. The dazzling water takes a 
soft gray tint, with white half-hghts. Diana and 
the Republic no longer flash in the rays, but 
seem to have absorbed the light, and glow 
softly. Over the white walls and pillars, and 
the shafts crowned with Neptunes, and the 
fountain, with its leaping waters, a gray shadow 
has fallen. Administration's dome shows the 
delicate white enamehng of its golden surface, 
and only the ruddy color within Agricultural's 
arcade remains unalterea. 

But the wind is strong, and the cloud passes. 
It was a moment of gentle gloom, amidst all 
the smiles and laughter. 



VIII. 

It is much easier to get into the Main Build- 
ing than to get out of it. When the elevator 
returned me to the floor it was my intention to 
go straight to the Palace of Art. But I did not 
go quite so straight as I intended. 

Near the north end of the Building there is 
a small space, in which stands a little sail-boat. 
It is rigged like a sloop, with a short, stout mast 
and a shorter bowsprit; and it is just fourteen 
feet long. Yet in this boat, called "The Sapolio," 
a man — Captain Andrews — crossed the Atlantic 
ocean, in a trip that lasted sixty-three days. 

The boat is very strongly built throughout, 
and is almost entirely decked over. She looks 
weather-worn, but is apparently as staunch and 
tight as when she was first launched. Near 
her, within the enclosure, sits Captain Andrews 
himself, a wiry man of medium size, and ap- 
parently under forty years old. He has a 
light reddish moustache, and smail gray eyes ; 
his manner is reticent, but he answers good- 

91 



92 The Fairest of the Fair, 

naturedly the many questions that are asked 
him, chiefly by women. ** Weren't you afraid 
you'd tip over, sometimes ?" " How did you 
manage to sleep at night ?" " Didn't you feel 
lonely?" " How did you cook your meals?" 
" Weren't you tired of it before you landed ? " 
The captain is always polite, but he looks al- 
most as much bored as he must often have felt 
while on his trip. At the back of the enclosure 
is a wild scene of mountainous waves, part paint 
and part canvas, with a fac-simile of " The 
Sapolio" plunging through them, and of Captain 
Andrews clinging to the tiller, and peering 
anxiously through the flying foam, eastward. 

There is a bronze vase, by Gustave Dore, in 
the French exhibit. It is very large ; but it 
does not seem to me more than half as tall 
as somebody said it was — fifteen feet. Its 
shape is very graceful, and yet is unlike the 
ordinary Greek form. But it is the decoration, 
rather than the shape or size, that held me fixed 
in admiration. It is all betwined with grape- 
vines, the leaves and clusters of fruit making a 
charming tangle, distributed over the surface 
Climbing up by these vines, swinging from the 
tendrils, bending over the wide mouth of the 




< 

o 

u 
< 



The Fairest of the Fair. 95 

stately vase, or crawling about its base, are 
scores of little cupids, laughing bacchantes, 
satyrs, Bacchus himself, and many other little 
creatures of the woods and fields. Such a 
riotous and merry time as they are having ! 
In one place, however, a sulky satyr (who has 
probably had his absurd goat-tail pulled) is be- 
laboring a poor little cupid, who, in his efforts 
to escape, has nearly tumbled off altogether. 
As for Bacchus, he has evidently been to the 
vase's mouth several times already ; but he has 
come back to bring thither a merry girl, round 
whose waist he has slipped his arm, as much 
to steady himself as to help her. The whole 
jolly company are climbing up, or helping or 
retarding one another, with shouts and laughter 
which you may see, if you cannot hear them. 
There is a big spider, however, who meets with 
no sympathy or mercy from any of them ; the 
most drunk of all that drunken crowd is re- 
solved that the spider shall get off, and quickly 
too. After gazing at the scene awhile, I began 
to long to climb the vase myself, and peer into 
its depths ; for it looks as though it might be a 
new Baucis' Pitcher, brimming over — not with 
milk, but — with champagne ; or, perhaps, it is 
the long-sought Fountain of Youth itself. 



94 The Fairest of the Fair. 

The Swiss carvings in wood are wonderful. 
There is a life-size chamois, poised on a dizzy 
peak, his alert and listening attitude suggesting 
the click of a hunter's gun. "What was that 
queer noise ?" he thinks to himself; "I don't 
half like it I " There are also several life-like 
(not life-size) bears, tumbling about or stagger- 
ing on funny, crooked little legs. A real bear, 
just like these, is to be seen in the Arena on 
Midway Plaisance. Here, too, are wooden 
dogs just on the point of barking, and wooden 
birds that seem just about to take flight. All 
the Swiss carvings suggest motion, not repose. 

Then I found myself walking between tables 
covered with the most delicate glass, enriched 
with a network of gold and silver, or elabo- 
rately cut and tinged with faint hues, or glow^- 
ing with deep color. How could human hands 
fashion things so airily beautiful, so exquisitely 
graceful ! But after seeing the many marvelous 
works of man in these buildings it is hard to 
say what he might 7iot do. 

The Spanish section is beautified with Moor- 
ish arches, striped pale pink and white. They 
form lovely vistas in every direction. Standing 
by the Clock Tower in the centre of the Build- 



The Fairest of the Fair, 95 

ing, I got a charming coup d' ceil oi the main 
divisions. Looking south, France is on the left 
hand. The arches over the entrances and win- 
dows are supported on the naked arms and 
shoulders of stately caryatides, and behind the 
sheets of plate glass are dainty dresses, and 
tapestries and splendid furniture are arranged 
to make pretty salons and delicious boudoirs. 
The coloring is always harmonious, sometimes 
delicate and gay, sometimes rich and subdued. 
The most fastidious temperament could find 
here exactly what would suit it — if Fortunatus' 
purse happened to be within reach. 

On the west side of the main aisle is Ger- 
many, whose main entrance is through the great 
iron gates, which are wonderfully wrought, but 
which I seldom remember to have found open. 
Behind the gates, and forming the central feat- 
ure of the exhibit, is an immense picture in 
painted tiles. It is twenty-five or thirty feet 
high, and half as broad. It is light and sunny 
in tone, and there is a pleasant pinky effect all 
through it. It represents maidens and other 
figures, with glimpses of a fair city mounting 
skyward in the background. The roofs and 
arches in this section are upheld by muscular 



96 The Fairest of the Fair. 

men's torsos, instead of the stately virgins of 
the French department. Back of the great 
picture is a perfect Paradise of children's toys. 
There are playthings of every imaginable kind, 
all the historic old ones of the German Fairy 
Tales, and all the new ones, too, in splendid 
array. Such dolls and rocking-horses, and nut- 
crackers and sugar-dollies, and Santa Clauses, 
and villages, and all other things that make 
Christmas delightful, were never before seen 
together. Here^ibouts also, I think, or near 
here, is a fur exhibit which contains a dozen 
great gray wolves, sitting with their red tongues 
lolling out of their grinning jaws ; and a num- 
ber of polar bears, one of which, standing on 
his hind legs, is ten or twelve feet high, and 
looks big enough co swallow an Esquimaux at 
a single mouthful. The place is more like a 
magnificent menagerie than a fur-shop. 

The partitions of the Japanese exhibit are 
painted red, and the entrances are something 
in the style of pagodas, with gates of iron work, 
but quite unlike the German ones. England is 
opposite France, as it is in the geography maps. 
There is nothing else distinctive about their ex- 
hibit^ however^ except the red cross flag of Great 



The Fairest of the Fair. 97 

Britain, with white lettering on it. But there is 
an Elizabethan Room, with carved oak wain- 
scoting and furniture, and tapestried walls, hung 
with trophies of swords and armor. Southward, 
farther down on the opposite side, is Russia's 
stately entrance, and close at hand are Tiffany's 
pavilion and the Gorham exhibit, in which is the 
sohd silver Columbus, by Bartholdi. 

The Clock Tower stands on four arches, and 
beneath them is a model of Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment in silver souvenir half-dollars. At stated 
times during the day the chimes are rung from 
this tower, and you may sit on a chair in front 
of your favorite exhibit and listen to the clear, 
sweet sounds, and be happy. Once, when I 
was there, the Tower and surrounding space 
were decorated with small fir and spruce trees 
(in honor of some visit of directors), which filled 
the air with their aromatic odor — a breath from 
the wild pine forests. Sousa's Band was play- 
ing, and the triumphant harmony rose to the 
vast roof, and spread about in lovely echoes, 
even to the arched doorways of the Building. 
I shall now follow them thither, and bid a final 
farewell to the Palace of Liberal Arts and Mai)- 
ufactures. 



IX. 



The Palace of Art is like a beautiful enchaPx- 
tress, who lures people to her bower, and then 
deprives them of all appearance of life. I have 
seen more persons looking utterly and hope- 
lessly worn out there than in all the other parts 
of the Fair put together. I suppose the reason 
is that so much energy is used up in looking at 
the pictures and statues that none is left for any 
other purpose ; and to make matters worse, 
there are not nearly enough seats to rest on. I 
found the best plan was to go there early in the 
morning for an hour or two, and thus keep fresh 
and ready for impressions. To appreciate a 
good picture or statue, I want to feel perfectly 
well, and above all, not to feel hurried. Often 
I would look at but two or three pictures in a 
morning. 

In this way I not only foiled the deadly spells 
of the enchantress, but enjoyed myself im- 
mensely. 

The largest room (in the central part of the 

98 



The Fairest of the Fair. 



99 



Building) is filled with statues and groups of 
sculpture, by both American and foreign artists. 
One of the biggest pieces shows an Indian on 
horseback, about to give a buffalo the coup de 
grace. The horse has been forced upon his 
hind legs, and his forefeet are over the buffalo's 
shoulders, while the Indian leans forward, spear 
in hand. So much of the group is fairly good. 
But the buffalo, instead of putting forth its enor- 
mous strength in a furious effort, walks gently 
along, his head wagging towards the horse with 
a deprecating gesture, as much as to say : " I 
hope Fm not incommoding you ! " I think the 
animal that posed for this statue must have 
been stuffed. He certainly looks dead, and the 
veritable forest of supports that prop him up 
seem to emphasize his deadness. 

There is another group of an Indian and 
buffalo, and here the artist has represented the 
buffalo as really dead ; the Indian has set his 
foot upon him with a conquering air. This 
poor creature looks even less like reality than 
the other. Indians appear to be favorite models. 
A Frenchman has modelled an Indian on horse- 
back, which is quite good. The brave wears a 
war-bonnet, loin-cloth and moccasins, and holds 
8 



loo The Fairest of the Fair. 

a spear in his raised right hand. The horse 
is standing still. The Indian sits easily, and 
Indian-like. Another Indian, supposed to be 
dancing the ghost-dance, looks as if he had a 
violent stomach-ache, and had swallowed a 
dose of paregoric. 

There is a marble of a drunken bacchante, 
spread out on her back, one hand thrown over 
her head, the other grasping a bunch of grapes. 
She is laughing to herself, and her attitude, 
though expressing the most utter abandon, is 
very graceful. And there is a statue of a girl, 
naked, and running at full speed, shouting out 
some message. In her impetuosity she has 
flung herself far forward, and her foot seems 
hardly to touch the ground. This is the work 
of Hippolite Le Roy. 

" The Struggle for Bread " is the name of a 
huge life-size group. The demand for work 
being exceeded by the supply, tickets have 
been issued by the factory, holders of which 
may get positions. In the rush to secure the 
tickets a strong young fellow in workman's 
blouse has been successful ; and success means 
to him, perhaps, life, wife and home. But an 
old man, just able to stagger, begs for it; a 



The Fairest of the Fair. loi 

starving woman, with her children, and a dying 
baby in her arms, try to snatch at it ; and he 
stands above them, with the hand holding the 
ticket raised over his head, hesitating. 

The work is well done, so far as characteri- 
zation and technical handling go. But a statue 
or group should have no purpose except to ex- 
press beauty and truth. When it aims to in- 
culcate a moral, or illustrate some social evil, 
it is no longer a work of art. It becomes a 
sort of tract. Nor do I see how it can do any 
good. This group will not induce selfish or 
thoughtless people to help the workingman ; 
and yet for what other end was it made ? 

Kemeys has some bronzes in the room be- 
neath the dome. The largest is of a panther 
and cubs. She Hes in lazy comfort, licking one 
of the cubs, who cranes its neck luxuriously, 
while the other rolls over, ready for play. 
There is a smaller figure of a bear kicking 
grotesquely on his back, and eating honey. 
The " Fighting Panther and Deer " stand in a 
deadly lock, from which neither can escape. A 
jaguar, who has sprung on a peccary, crouches 
with his teeth buried in its throat, drinking its 
blood with terrible relish. One day, when I 



I02 The Fairest of the Fair, 

was near this spot, some Japanese gathered 
round this jaguar, and drew one another's at- 
tention to its good points — speaking English, 
for an American was with them — and departed 
Hngeringly, with the benign verdict, •' Good — 
Oh, very good ! " 

Mr. Elwell has a group of Dickens, sitting 
in an arm chair, on a pedestal, against the base 
of which, looking up towards him, stands little 
Nell. The Dickens, no doubt, resembles that 
author, and the Nell is a pretty little girl ; but 
I thought the group uninteresting and senti- 
mental. 

D. C. French, who modelled " The Repub- 
lic," has a group here of " Death and the 
Sculptor." A boyish, handsome young fellow 
is chiselling the head of the Sphinx in bas- 
relief, and his mallet is poised for a blow. But 
Death gently pushes aside the other hand, 
which holds the chisel. The youth turns in 
surprise to look at her. She appears to him as 
a beautiful woman in flowing draperies, with a 
veil partly shrouding her head, and a sort of 
mistiness over her face. Her great wings 
sweep in long curves to the ground. Her ex- 
pression is sweet, sad and compassionate, and 



The Fairest of the Fair, 103 

seems to convey a mysterious promise. It is a 
true work of art, nobly conceived and done; 
but in no part is the sculptor's genius so mani- 
fest as in that awe-inspiring vagueness wrought 
upon the beautiful features ; such a dimness as 
must ever envelop Death, even at that moment 
when she takes our hand in her's. 

Elsewhere in this room is a Hercules strug- 
gling with a lion. Man and beast are clutched 
and twisted together in the desperate fight. 
Their muscles strain and swell on bodies and 
limbs ; Hercules is about to make his final 
effort, and then the lion, mighty as he is, must 
yield. 

Among the number of busts of well-known 
men is a full length of Shakespeare, relaxed in 
his chair, his finger between the leaves of a 
book. This statue (by W. O. Partridge) is to 
stand in Linden Park. I suppose it is almost 
impossible to carve or paint such a Shakes- 
peare as shall fulfil all our ideals of him. This 
man, though handsome and graceful enough, 
is certainly not my Shakespeare. The fire, the 
humor, the strong delight in life, and the 
shadow of mystery that I looked for, I did not 
find in this cold and meditative figure. 



I04 The Fairest of the Fair. 

The bare-backed statue of a man lifting a 
shovel full of earth is fine and muscular, but he 
seems to be putting forth a tremendous amount 
of energy for a comparatively slight cause. 

There are some pretty and spirited bronzes 
and marbles of boys in telling postures, and 
several lovely female figures. One of these 
stands drawn up on tiptoe, the very essence of 
dainty coquetry. There is a charming " For- 
tune," too, with eyes blindfolded and drapery 
floating out in the breeze of her going ; and in 
one of the rooms there is a naked captive 
woman, kneeling, with hands bound behind 
her, and leaning far forward, so that she may 
suckle her infant, who lies before her, happy 
and comfortable. 

But paintings are the predominant feature in 
this Building. All civiHzed nations are repre- 
sented, and the number of good pictures is large. 
Comparatively few are absolutely bad, and it is 
easy not to see them. Many of the landscapes 
have original effects of color and light, and 
some of the nudes are very beautiful. Among 
the portraits is Sargent's of Ellen Terry as Lady 
Macbeth, The likeness is good, but that is the 
least important artistic excellence of the work. 



The Fairest of the Fair. 105 

There stands the Queen, tall and erect, the hnes 
of her figure revealed by the close-fitting gar- 
ment, iridescent, like a serpent's skin, and 
changing with peacock blues and greens. A 
cloak hangs back from her shoulders, and her 
hair falls in two thick bands of splendid reddish 
gold, bound with ribbon, on both sides of her 
face and to her knees. In her hands she holds 
just above her head the blood-stained crown. 
Her face is set, cold and haughty ; but in her 
eyes, which look straight forward, is a horror — a 
dread of the unknown to come — that fascinates 
me. Face and arms are ghastly white, clearly 
defined against the deep blue-green background 
and the splendor of the royal garments. It is 
is so powerful a picture, and so stirring to the 
feelings, that I could not look at it long at a 
time without becoming tired. Sargent has other 
portraits here ; one, a little girl in white, is par- 
ticularly effective ; but the Ellen Terry drew me 
back again and again. 

In the corridor is a picture, by an American 
artist, which rarely lacks a group of admirers. 
It is called " Breaking Home Ties." It is of a 
very realistic type, and is not especially well 
painted. In a small room in a country farm 



io6 The Fairest of the Fair. 

house stands the son, about to go forth in the 
world. His mother, a worn and weary woman, 
with a sad face, lays her hands on his shoulders. 
The boy himself appears rather stupid and un- 
demonstrative ; others of the family circle stand 
about. One day, as I was passing this picture, 
half a dozen persons, evidently from some farm 
house themselves, were gathered in front of it. 
There were the old farmer and his old wife, two 
young men and two girls. One of the young 
fellows presently broke the silence by saying, 
with a sigh : " Now, thaf s what I call a picture. 
It suits me down to the ground, and I don't 
care who knows it." Another silence. "And 
do look at that lovely wall-paper," added one 
of the girls. "I tell you," exclaimed the old 
father, "the man that painted that knows how 
to paint!" 
p There are several sensational pictures, which 
always have a cluster of spectators. The girl 
who is about to drink a goblet of the blood of 
an aristocrat to save her father's life, while her 
lover lies dead at her feet, and the mad rabble 
surges about ; or the Guard being shot down on 
the steps of the Tuileries, and lying all the way 
up them in picturesque death attitudes ; or the 



The Fairest of the Fair. 107 

**Flagellants," a bloody scene of crazy fanatics ; 
these, and others which tell similar gruesome 
stories, always attract attention. A work of this 
class, but redeemed by a touch of imagination, 
is to be found in the Spanish section. The 
Saracens, it seems, had a habit of fighting be- 
hind a rampart made of black slaves, chained 
by collars round their necks to a long chain at- 
tached to a series of strong posts driven into 
the ground ; the slaves were naked and armed 
only with spears. The picture shows a troop of 
knights in full armor charging on this human 
stockade. The horse of the leader has leaped 
and is coming down on one of the blacks, who 
crouches to the earth, trying to shield his head 
from the impending hoofs. The entire line be- 
tween the posts is in wild disorder ; but the iron 
bands round the men's necks hold firm, and in 
a moment the thunder of the charge will have 
passed, leaving behind a hideous, trampled 
mass. 

In another room is a picture of a placid bay, 
tinted with curving rainbow lines of gold and 
green, and blue and silver, such as I have some- 
times seen in the early morning, or just before 
sunset. Dispersed about the sandy beach are 



io8 The Fairest of the Fair, 

several girls, and others are in the water ; their 
flesh is beautifully painted, but the figure-draw- 
ing is not very good. It is a large canvas, and 
the luminous tone is delightful. Another sea 
scene shows the body of a naked woman rolled 
up by the waves. She is presumably dead, but 
even so, the purple hue of her skin looks im- 
possible. 

In the EngHsh rooms are two pictures by 
Watts, "Love and Life" and "Love and 
Death." There are seats in front of them, 
luckily, and I sat and looked at them to my 
heart's content. Poor winged Love, warm and 
sunny, striving at the threshold with that veiled, 
pallid, immitigable phantom, who must pass, 
and scarce knows that he was resisted ! In the 
other canvas Love appears as a strong and fair 
youth, who has led Life, a slight and fragile 
girl, to a dizzy mountain top. She is fainting 
and afraid, but his hand holds hers, his tender 
voice cheers her, and still he leads her higher. 

There are three great pictures in the Russian 
section, besides several that are fine — such as 
a little desert scene with Arabs and camels, in 
a luminous atmosphere ; and two delicate 
water-color drawings. I also liked the old Jew 



The Fairest of the Fair. 109 

looking at a sleeping woman. But the three 
chef-d' ceuvres are "A Storm in Mid- Ocean," 
"The Landing of Columbus," and " The Cos- 
sack's Reply." The first two are the work of 
one artist. In the "Storm" a ship is reeling 
in the trough of the sea ; a mountainous wave 
is heaving high above her ; foam flies before 
the wind ; the skies are dark ; the crew is hud- 
dled together on the slant of the deck, towards 
the stern, expecting death in the coming wave. 
But through a rift in the sombre clouds a great 
beam of white sunlight pierces, making a path 
of radiance which falls across the ship and 
gleams on the turmoil of waters beyond, trans- 
muting them to emerald. This shaft of light is 
wonderfully painted ; one almost thinks that it 
must come from the real sun, through some un- 
seen aperture. 

In " The Landing of Columbus " the scene is 
flooded with golden rosy light of sunrise, so like 
and so unlike the sunset hues. Mountains and 
feathery palms are tinted by it, and so are the 
disembarking groups. The morning is calm, 
and the sea breaks softly on the beach. In the 
middle distance, slumbering in the amber haze, 
the three caravels that have brought the ex- 
plorers lie, rocking on the lazy swell. 



1 1 o The Fairest of the Fair. 

*' The Cossack's Reply " is of a different tem- 
per from these. Crowded round a table, on 
which one of them is writing, is a throng of wild 
soldiers, each of whom is in his own fashion 
roaring with laughter. One powerful fellow, his 
broad chest bare, is thrown back with his eyes 
sciewed up, while he bellows forth his merri- 
ment from his great throat. It seems as if the 
canvas must shake with it. Another older man, 
with a stringy neck and protruding eyes, is 
chuckling so contagiously that I found myself 
smiling in sympathy ; and so with the rest ; they 
sit on barrels and overturned boxes, knives and 
pistols stuck in their belts, and every sunburnt 
visage convulsed with mirth. An outer ring of 
men, attracted by the noise, but not knowing 
the joke, are laughing at the others' laughter ; 
but the difference between the reflected merri- 
ment and the original is excellently portrayed. 
One of the outsiders looks on with a scornful 
smile; perhaps he is the bearer from the enemy's 
camp of the message which the Cossack is an- 
swering with such irresistible humor. 

Rosa Bonheur has some pictures in the 
French section. A splendid stag, life size, stands 
before a background of deep forest, knee-high 



The Fairest of the Fair, 1 1 1 

in grass and vines. His head is up, his forefeet 
are close together and his eyes are fixed on 
yours. He is almost out of the canvas, and 
coming unexpectedly upon the picture, you 
think he really is out of it. A kingly creature 
he is ! In contrast to him is the little cow, yel- 
low and quiet, with fields stretching serenely off 
behind her. He is so untamable and danger- 
ous, and she is so safe and soporific ! 

In another of the French rooms is a strange 
picture of a little Egyptian girl walking through 
a marble hall, followed by two leopards, slink- 
ing along with shining, upturned eyes. There 
are several pictures of lions, in deserts, or in 
traps, or walking with tigers and panthers 
through the streets of ruined cities, deserted 
even by the ghosts of men. And there is a 
statue of a tiger in the central room, the stripes 
on which have been indicated by roughening 
the surface - a bad idea, I thought. 

In one of the American rooms (I think) is a 
picture of a row of girls in Spanish costume, 
seated on a bench, playing the tambourine and 
singing. Their faces are strongly illuminated 
by the footlights, and at first the effect was 
starthng, and, I thought, ugly. But by and by, 



1 1 2 The Fairest of the Fair, 

when I got accustomed to it, I saw how fine 
it was. The character of each of the girls is 
strongly marked, and they are not all pretty ; 
and somehow, in that glare of light, they seem 
alive. 

A picture of Circe, on the contrary, is full of 
morbid poetry. She sits throned and crowned 
and naked on a jewelled seat, with gems upon 
her arms and neck, in a strange witch-light 
that gives her skin a peculiar alabaster white- 
ness, unlike ordinary flesh. In the foreground 
is a herd of swine, tumbling and grunting con- 
fusedly. 

A beautiful nude is that of a girl stepping 
between tall rushes into a quiet river. Though 
the painting appears solid, the color is laid on 
so thin that the texture of the canvas is visible. 
Elsewhere is a group of a boy and girl who 
have just emerged from a sea-bath, and now 
are trying to shove a most unwilling dog into 
the water. 

It was in the three rooms containing the 
Loan Exhibition that I spent most of my time. 
In an adjoining room are several of Inness' 
paintings. What a glorious wealth of color, 
what depth and softness, his canvases have ! 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 1 3 

The trees, scarlet and gold in autumnal mag- 
nificence ; the dark blue skies with white 
clouds, the shadows in the long, green grass, 
the moist, warm atmosphere — after once mak- 
ing the acquaintance of Inness, no one can 
afterwards mistake anything of his for an- 
other's. 

On the two sides of a screen is a little collec- 
tion of works by Elihu Vedder ; small pictures, 
but full of imagination. The two heads, " Sam- 
son " and " Dehlah " were among them ; Deli- 
lah glancing sidewise out of her beautiful black 
eyes, in which is a gleam of cruelty, reflected 
on hei mouth. " The Lair of the Sea-Serpent " 
shows a sandy spit zig-zagging out into the pale 
blue sea, with a pale sky above, and the great 
serpent disposed at ease, and looking terrible 
enough. In another canvas, on the yellow 
sand, lies the huge roc's ^gg, a group of Arabs 
camped beside it, some of them peeping through 
a hole in its thick shell. Far away, almost 
small in the distance, above a stretch of water — 
perhaps the Persian Gulf — the awful bird itself 
sails through the air towards the unsuspecting 
Arabs. The color in these paintings is rather 
hard, but I like it, and them. They have a 
great deal in them besides paint and execution. 



1 1 4 The Fairest of the Fair. 

But it was to the Corots that I returned often- 
est. I cannot tell in what lies their pecuHar 
fascination. They express the poetry of land- 
scape, and " the light that never was, on sea or 
land," illumines them. Yet it is the very light 
of nature, too. The dream figures that saunter 
under the spreading branches of the trees, or 
sing and dance on the dark grass, are graceful 
and beautiful enough even for such a land as 
that they dwell in. But there is something in- 
describable, a mystery, a sort of imprisoned 
music, a — I know not what ! — which is the best 
and most wondrous part of them. 

There are two or three Meissoniers here — 
delicate, exquisite little things, sunny and clear ; 
cavaliers riding across a plain, or taking obser- 
vations from some lovely hill. I was delighted, 
too, by the rich, warm colors of midsummer, as 
portrayed by Bougereau and Rousseau. Alma 
Tadema's " Reading from Homer" is beautiful 
with such marble as only he can paint ; the 
Greeks, in graceful, unconscious poses, listen 
to the Reader, who leans forward, his face 
glowing in sympathy with the mighty lines he 
reads. 

There is a fine collection of Millets. The 



The Fairest of the Fair, 1 1 5 

" Sheep Shearers ;" the men bringing in a new- 
born calf; a girl sitting on a hillock with a dis- 
taff in her hand ; the man hoeing ; and others. 
Wonderful paintings I can see they are ; though 
I do not hke them. That man with a hoe ! 
how wearily he pushes himself erect — as erect 
as he can ever be — with the help of the hoe 
handle. The landscape is dull, and he does 
not look at it ; his face shows nothing but Toil. 
Toil stretching behind him as far as he can 
remember, and before him as far as he can 
think. Doubtless a great work ; but its hope- 
less sadness, greater even than its art, re- 
pels me. 

Up in a corner, beside a door, is " La Cigale," 
which is deliciously lovely. She partly leans 
against a high wall, in an attitude of negligent 
grace ; the body is all beautiful sweeping curves, 
and the color is delicate and poetical. Poor 
Cigale ! She is very different from the man 
with the hoe, who, I suppose, might represent 
for the nonce the industrious Fourmis. 

In the middle room is a Bastien-Lepage — a 

pale gray and misty river scene, with piers and 

boats. Marie Bashkirtseff, who cared very 

much for Lepage, has a picture of a couple of 

9 



1 1 6 The Fairest of the Fair. 

French children — "Jean et Jacques," which is 
in the Woman's Building. I was curious to 
see whether he had influenced her ; but noth- 
ing could be wider apart than their methods — 
if Marie could be said to have any recogniz- 
able method at all. Her independence, such 
as it is, is to her credit, nevertheless. Her 
feeling for art must have been genuine. 

Among the "Loans" is Gerome's famous 
picture, "Son Eminence Grise," in which His 
Eminence, in his gray monk's habit, and ap- 
parently absorbed in the pages of his breviary, 
comes down a flight of stairs. A gay company 
of lords and cavahers are at the same moment 
going up, gorgeous in their silks and satins. 
Those below him uncover and bow humbly 
down ; but those who have passed on above him 
show their hatred and resentment in their faces 
and gestures. His Eminence, with the pride 
that apes humility, afl'ects to be unconscious of 
them and their greetings, and treats the butter- 
fly throng as if they had no existence. But 
should any of them fail to make obeisance, I 
suspect they w^ould regret it. 

Before I leave Gerome I want to speak of a 
group of sculpture by him, in another part of 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 1 7 

the Building. It stands in a circular place at 
the end of a corridor, alone. It shows the mo- 
ment when Galatea first thrills with life, and 
Pygmalion realizes it. His arms are about her, 
and their lips meet in a long kiss. Pygmalion's 
attitude, though full of eagerness and joy, is 
almost awkward ; he thinks of nothing but Gal- 
atea. In her the new life has barely had time 
to deliver her from the marble, and the lower 
half of her figure is still in bonds. But her 
body from the waist is turned towards him and 
her lovely head bends to meet his kiss. It is 
unlike any group I ever saw, and seems to me 
almost too passionate for cold stone. 

One of the pictures in the Spanish rooms is a 
warm orchard scene, where the sun and shadow 
checker the thick grass, and the sky glows deep 
blue through the leafy branches. On this grass 
lies a woman, rosy, tanned, brimful of voluptu- 
ous life and health. Her hands are clasped be- 
hind her head, and she laughs to herself. Off 
in the distance a man saunters away ; the smile 
of the girl and the man's disappearance have 
an evident connection. The picture is bril- 
liantly painted, and this touch of ambiguity 
makes it interesting. 



1 1 8 The Fairest of the Fair, 

Japan has two rooms in this Palace, where 
are assembled many lovely things. There is a 
picture made of woven silk, wonderful for its 
splendid colors and the intricacy of the subject, 
a long procession of Japanese people in beau- 
tiful, strange costumes, carrying banners and 
standards ; they emerge from the background 
and twine about between temples and trees, and 
file along the whole length of the foreground. 
Pinned to this lovely thing and fastened to the 
railing in front of it, which is made of bamboo, 
are numerous signs, saying : " Please do not 
touch;" ''Ladies will kindly not handle;" 
" This is woven," etc. But out of four women 
who came in while I was there three took up a 
corner of the stuff and rubbed it between their 
fingers. Stra.nge ! 

There are two paintings of the Japanese 
Sacred Mountain, Fusiyama, one of which is 
very beautiful. The peak towers up, touched 
with rosy light, and mist-wrealhs float about its 
mighty sides. This picture has a soft gray tone. 
There is another picture of a fish swimming in 
a stream, which is a masterpiece. A Japanese 
artist can paint a bird, or the branch of a tree, 
on a large canvas with scarce any other color 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 1 9 

than gray, and yet put in poetry, and thought, 
and beauty enough to keep one before it for 
hours. 

They have other things besides paintings. A 
gorilla carved in wood, some bronzes, vases 
and embroideries ; and in the gallery there are 
beautiful screens, and a painting of a spring 
landscape with five little Japanese maidens, in 
garments of dainty colors, walking across the 
canvas ; and much more that is worth seeing 
and telling about. 

But I feel as though I had been in the Palace 
of Art long enough. There are other things to 
do and see elsewhere. Real men and women 
are to be seen, even more interesting than pic- 
tures and statues ; for, after all, the most beau- 
tiful work of art in the world is never anything 
more than just a work of art. 



X. 



Surrounding Horticultural Palace are the 
greenest and softest lawns to be found in Jack- 
son Park. Little whirling machines are always 
sprinkling water over them ; and fat robins 
hop about and look for worms. Between the 
front of the Building and North Lagoon is a cir- 
cular basin filled with water lilies, white and 
pink, shedding sweet perfume. There are also 
cactuses, twelve or fifteen feet tall, stiff and 
awkward as sentinels on parade, with short, 
stumpy arms and small, pale yellow flowers, 
star-shaped, which do not at all look as if they 
belonged to them, but had got stuck on by 
accident. 

Inside, under the great dome, flowers and 
plants are gathered in a huge pyramid ; and 
there are more of them in the two wings. The 
display is pretty, of course, but it lacks distinc- 
tion. A century plant was in bloom, palms and 
ferns were abundant, and there was a good col- 
lection of orchids from the nursery at Short 

1 20 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 2 i 

Hills, N. J. Japan had sent some trees which 
looked as though hundreds of years had passed 
away since they were seedhngs, and indeed such 
may have been the case. Their trunks were 
seamed and mossy with antiquity, and their 
gnarled branches covered with dark needles — 
for these trees are of the cedar family — spread 
abroad and created a mysterious obscurity. In 
spite of this semblance of vastness and strength, 
however, the biggest of them is not above 
eighteen inches in height, and they grow in 
white and blue porcelain jars. 

The endless corridors of Horticultural Palace 
are filled for the most part with specimens of 
the fruit of different States and from Canada, 
and with wines, seeds and garden machinery. 
From Mexico comes a model in silver fihgree 
of Horticultural Palace itself. Most of the fruit 
shown is preserved in countless glass jars, but 
there are also innumerable dishes holding ap- 
ples and oranges ; pineapples grow in boxes, 
and a cocoanut palm stands up with an ex- 
hausted expression, holding aloft a cluster of 
nuts encased in gourd-like shells. The largest 
apples and pears are among the preserved 
fruit, and they are large enough to stay the ap- 



122 The Fairest of the Fair. 

petite even of a small boy. There are also 
models of fruit in wax, with what purpose ex- 
hibited here I know not. In some places the 
oranges are built up into pyramids, obelisks and 
spheres. The smell of all this is so good that 
it used to make me hungry, and I rarely left 
the building without buying an orange or two, 
or a couple of bananas, from the girl that has 
wisely set up a stand near one of the exits. 

After I had bought my orange I was not con- 
strained to seek a secluded place to devour it ; 
people do as they please at the P^air. Lunches 
are eaten on the benches in the Grand Court, 
on the steps of the buildings, on their roofs, in- 
side them, on Wooded Island — in short, any- 
where, where you happen to feel hungry, and 
when you have a basket with lunch in it. When 
you have finished you may — and generally you 
do — leave your papers and lunch boxes behind 
you, to be removed by the night army of wagons 
provided for that purpose. It is convenient 
and sensible. 

On the way from Horticultural Palace to the 
Woman's Building is the Children's Building, a 
white, square, handsome structure, with decora- 
tions in blue, and paintings on the walls of 



The Fairest of the Fair, 123 

children in the costumes of different countries. 
A big room inside is enclosed with a railing ; it 
is a sort of gymnasium, where any children who 
wish it may come and exercise under the guid- 
ance of a German instructor, free of charge. 
What fun they do have, with travelling rings, 
rope ladders, trapezes, wooden "horses," and 
one another ! The boys and girls go in together, 
and outside the railing a crowd of spectators — 
among whom are the mothers, sisters, fathers 
and aunts of the Httle performers — stand and 
admire. A glass partition separates this room 
from a smaller one, where dozens of babies sit 
or toddle, playing with toys or investigating 
their own toes with meditative particularity. 
Mothers can leave their children here while 
they toil through the Fair, sure that good care 
will be taken of them. There is always a crowd 
of people looking through the glass partition. 
Delighted smiles broaden their faces, while they 
emit such exclamations as : " Isn't that a little 
beauty!" " Look at her cunning feet ! " "What 
lovely curly hair ! " ''How I should like to buy 
that little critter ! " There are other things be- 
sides children and their subjects in this Build- 
ing — dolls, manuscript stories, and even a statue 



1 ^4 1^)^^ Fairest of the Fair. 

or two, and other works of art ; but nothing can 
compete with the babies, and people seldom 
look at anything else. 

The Woman's Building, from an architect- 
ural point of view, is unobjectionable, but not 
impressive. It is a white oblong, with columned 
verandas, front and back, and a parapet above 
surmounted with winged figures. Broad flights 
of steps approach it on all sides. They are a . 
favorite camping-ground for visitors. Within, 
the main hall is hung with pictures, and there 
are rows of glazed cases, containing embroid- 
eries, laces, hand-painted fans and women's 
work of all sorts. On the west side are speci- 
mens of the manuscripts of George EHot, Char- 
lotte Bronte, Jane Austen and other eminent 
women writers ; and there is a collection of 
drawings and engravings. As for the paint- 
ings, the most that can be said of them is that 
they are fair. In the centre of the hall is a 
fountain, and round it are four statues. One of 
them, an erect, nude figure, in the simplest pos- 
sible pose, is pretty and effective. 

Adjoining the main hall are rooms contain- 
ing the exhibits of Japan. England and other 
countries. There is a group of patents, and a 




5 
3 

CO 

O 



The Fairest of the Fair. 125 

good deal of space is given to Mrs. French- 
Sheldon's Loan Exhibit. This is very interest- 
ing ; it comprises all sorts of things that she 
brought from Africa, and many photographs of 
African scenes and people. There are orna- 
ments, arms and head-dresses, given to her by 
various chiefs ; strings of beads of an oval shape 
and an inch in length, of different colors, used 
by the natives as money ; five of them will buy 
a woman, but it takes ten to buy a cow ; odd 
instruments for the purpose of stretching ears, 
of graduated sizes, larger ones being put in as 
the ear expands; Mrs. Sheldon's receiving-robe, 
gorgeous but not beautiful, which must have 
dazzled the natives ; her ceremonial wig, made 
of innumerable long, fair curls, the sight of 
which doubtless put all the native kings and 
queens on their mettle to find something to 
rival it withal ; and to make an end of the cata- 
logue, a photograph of a stern but beautiful girl, 
the Queen of the Semali, who, though she is 
half naked and dark-skinned — not black — is 
every inch a queen, and, judging from her as- 
pect, a queen not to be trifled with. 

Adjoining this exhibit is some of the work 
of our own and the Mexican Indians. Here 



126 The Fairest of the Fair. 

I saw several of the famous Navajo blank- 
ets, beautiful in texture and color, and war- 
ranted to wear a hundred years. There is 
Mexican pottery — bowls and jars, decorated 
with broad black lines ; and on the wall hangs 
a large photograph of a Navajo squaw, with 
clear-cut, handsome features and a noble ex- 
pression. 

The Japanese exhibit consists of two fur- 
nished rooms — the boudoir of a Japanese lady, 
and her sitting-room. In the boudoir is a soft, 
square mat to sit upon, and small, square 
tables six inches high, supporting tiny jars con- 
taining paints and creams, and mirrors and 
other dainty toilette articles. Hung on a sort 
of clothes-horse are dresses of satin and soft 
silk, heavily embroidered. I once met two 
httle Japanese women in the California Build- 
ing, toddling along on their high clogs, with 
their hair piled high on their heads and stuck 
all through with long butterfly pins, and wear- 
ing clothes just like these. 

Two cobras, carved out of wood, are in the 
Ceylonese booth, painted to the life ; they are 
coiled, their heads poised and necks puffed out 
— perilous-looking creatures ! Throngs of peo- 



The Fairest of the Fair, 127 

pie get tea here, and ask questions of the pretty 
little Zinghalese women. In charge of the 
Syrian exhibit is a native woman, with dark 
hair and big eyes. I overheard her saying to 
an American girl that she was going to resign 
her position in a few days. " One — two days 
— then I go," she said. "Men," she contin- 
ued, "ask me many silly questions. It far 
better that girls and men not mix — like in my 
country. Here, bad ; spoil girls ; you think so, 
too?" 

" No ! " answered the fair American, in decis- 
ive tones. 

The Syrian shrugged her shoulders. 

Besides the East Indian Embroideries in the 
Main Hall sits a Hindu. He is small and 
slender, with a dark, sad face ; he wears a 
small white turban, and a long, dark robe, with 
an embroidered undervest. One of the scarlet- 
uniformed catalogue boys with astonishing pro- 
fessional voices began a conversation with him 
one day, while I was near. The Hindu, point- 
ing to a picture on the wall of Christ pardon- 
ing the sinner, asked what it was. The boy, 
in an awed tone, told him ; and, after a pause, 
asked with some anxiety : 



128 The Fairest of the Fair, 

"You .... you know who Christ is, don't 
you?" 

" Oh, yes !" said the Hindu, in his soft voice. 

Another pause ; then — 

"You aren't — your people aren't, I mean — 
aren't Christians, are they ?" ventured the boy, 
in a casual tone, but watching the Oriental 
with manifest solicitude. 

"Perhaps!" answered the latter, turning 
away. 

The boy lounged off, still regarding the 
Hindu with a covert air of mingled alarm 
and compassion. But presently I heard him 
calling out, "Catalogues! Catalogues here! 
Ten cents!" in his accustomed professional 
tone. He was a small, thin boy. 

The Roof-garden Cafe of this Building is 
very popular, for the air up there is cool and 
pleasant, prices are reasonable and the service 
is quick and good. From twelve o'clock till 
three every day a column, three abreast and of 
indefinite length, forms on the staircase before 
the doors, and moves forward by short jerks, 
as the leaders are admitted successively. When 
you are once up, it is a nice place, not only to 
eat in, but to rest and read the Daily Cohivi- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 129 

Man, and collect one's thoughts. There is also 
a fine view. To the east is the lake, and the 
chief buildings, including the Government's, 
where, if it be near noon, you may see the 
time-ball drop from the top to the base of the 
staff on the dome. People are always on the 
look-out for it, with their timepieces open in 
their hands. By the expression of their faces 
when the great moment arrives, you can tell 
how near correct their watches are. Those 
who are right to the second pocket their watches 
with a complacent smile. The others look 
annoyed, surprised or indignant, and mumble 
some remark about ** city time's probably a 
little fast" or "slow," as the case may be. 

Close at hand, on the southeast, is a little 
white edifice whose railed-in roof resembles the 
deck of a ship, and whose windows are port- 
holes. The ornament of its frieze is white 
stars, and upon its walls are writ the names of 
steamers. It is, in fact, the House of the White 
Star Line, and inside are models of their finest 
ships ; and from its main room open cabins, 
facsimiles of those in the real vessels. Close 
to this pretty building stands that of Puck, 
tinted delicate yellow, with twisted columns 



1 30 The Fairest of the Fair, 

surrounding it, like sticks of barley-sugar 
candy ; it is further decorated with painted 
wreaths and pale green ribbons. A statue of 
Puck himself, just like the portrait on the cover 
of the paper, presides over the building. 

Looking directly west, I saw a throng of peo- 
ple pushing and josthng one another, most of 
them having their backs turned toward me. 
They were streaming under a railway bridge 
which spans a broad walk extending in the 
direction of the Pacific Ocean, but seeming to 
stop at the Ferris Wheel. A placard on the 
bridge informed me that this walk was the 
famous Midway Plaisance, which I already 
knew. 

The walk is thirty or forty yards wide, and 
is lined on either side with buildings of the 
most varied design and size. On the left, near 
the entrance, is an old gray castle surrounded 
by thatched roofs ; this is the Irish Village, and 
in the castle is a piece of the real Blarney 
Stone. Beyond, on both sides, is a medley of 
towers, gables and domes ; and the thorough- 
fare between them seems solid with a dark 
mass of people carrying sun umbrellas, re- 
lieved here and there with a white burnous, a 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 3 1 

red or a purple caftan, a turban or a fez. The 
place looks as if it would improve on a nearer 
acquaintance. So I got up and left the roof of 
the Woman's Building, ran down-stairs, and, 
without hesitating a moment, saUied forth by 
the western entrance. The next moment I was 
in the midst of the crowd, and, with them 
pressing "westward — ho!" into the Midway 
Plaisance. 



XI. 

In the old Arabian Tales, Princes and others 
would occasionally get possession of a certain 
wonderful carpet, which had the power of in- 
stantly transporting them to any part of the 
world they might wish to visit. 

Did these fortunate individuals and their 
carpet exist to-day, all they need do would be 
to soar over the head of the gateman at the 
turnstiles and come down in Midway Plaisance, 
for here all the world meets and looks at itself. 
It finds itself to be a very nice world, with many 
strange and new — or so old that they appear 
new — things in it. It has never seen itself all 
in one place before, and the experience is pleas- 
ant and exciting. 

Before entering any of the villages, buildings 
or " streets " that border on the great thorough- 
fare, it is well to walk up and down its length 
a few times and get the bearings. I found 
enough in that walk to occupy me for some 
time. 

132 



The Fairest of the Fair, 133 

The Turkish sedan-chairs are much used by 
visitors. They resemble the EngHsh seven- 
teenth century ones in general shape, but are 
less elaborate in decoration, being of sombre 
color and usually lined inside with red. The 
poles on which they are swung are harnessed 
to the shoulders of the carriers — two sullen- 
looking Turks — who steady the motion with 
their hands. These men are dressed in dark 
brown pegtop trousers, wide at the hips and 
close at the ankles ; a short jacket of the same 
coarse material, ornamented with braid and 
furnished with a hood, which can be pulled 
over the head when it rains. Meanwhile, they 
wear the invariable red fez, with its long black 
tassel. A shirt open at the throat and a broad 
sash complete the costume ; or if the day is very 
hot they omit the jacket and put on baggy, 
white Turkish drawers ; on their feet are heavy, 
clumsy, red or yellow slippers. 

A couple of these chairs come up behind me, 
the leading carrier grunts a warning in a mixture 
of Turkish and Enghsh, and I step aside to 
make room. In the first is a fat man, mopping 
his face with a brilliant bandanna, and grinning 
broadly ; in the second is a woman of fair pro- 



134 1^^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 

portions and a small child ; the woman gazes 
straight ahead with an expression of determined 
dignity. The carriers jog along with their pecu- 
liar trot, neither a walk nor a run, never keep- 
ing step, and dripping with perspiration. They 
look cross and tired ; but that is their normal 
aspect, even when seated, half asleep in their 
own chairs awaiting customers. They are a 
bad-looking set, those Turks, as insensible to 
the quality of mercy as Shylock was supposed 
to be. 

Their proficiency in English is limited. Two 
ladies came out of the Java village as I was 
going by and got into two chairs. They wanted 
to go somewhere, but could not make the Turks 
understand where. The Turks would appear 
to understand, slip the straps over the handles, 
lift the chairs and set out, whereupon the women 
would scream and shake their heads, and enter 
into renewed explanations. After this had been 
repeated several times the carriers with one ac- 
cord seated themselves on the long handles of 
the vehicles, leaned their heads on their hands 
and contemplated nature, and in this posture I 
left them. 

Again, a man wanted to be taken to Daho- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 3 5 

mey, but knew not where it was. He tried to 
make his carriers understand what he wanted, 
and at length a gleam of intelligence irradiated 
the countenance of one of them. He swept his 
arm over his face and chest, saying : "All dark, 
no clothes ! " and off they went to Africa. 

Here come four or five Arabs, striding along 
with their proud step, their white burnouses 
floating out behind them, revealing the scarlet 
caftans belted at the waist and the sashes full 
of knives and scimitars ; wrinkled red Morocco 
boots are on their feet, and on either side of 
their swarthy visages hang the straight white 
folds of their head-dress. I think their costume 
is perhaps the most beautiful of the many to be 
seen on the Plaisance ; but the point is as hard 
to settle as that of the favorite book or picture. 

Noticing a little circular crowd in the midst 
of the walk, I added myself to it, and presently 
found that the centre of attraction was a little 
Javanese. When I had become familiar with 
the ways of the Plaisance, I learned by expe- 
rience that this almost always turns out to be 
the case ; the exception being one of the funny 
little Oriental children appertaining to one or 
other of the Eastern communities. 



1 36 The Fairest of the Fair, 

I saunter on. 

On my right, behind a wattled cane fence, is 
a large village of delicious little houses made of 
mats, in pretty reds, browns and yellows, or just 
plain bamboo color. They are thatched with 
dark leaves; from the gable ends project long, 
slender, up-curving rods ; each house has its 
httle veranda in front. This is Java — a fasci- 
nating place. 

To the left, just opposite, is a low, white build- 
ing, with the inscription across its front, " South 
Sea Island Theatre." Oil portraits of three or 
four of the natives ornament the fafade, and 
from the open door issues the music of soft, 
wild voices and of rhythmically clapping hands. 
In the enclosure west of the theatre are three 
or four circular huts, with thatched roofs rising 
to a point ; their sides four feet upwards from 
the ground consist of suspended mats, which 
can be rolled up at pleasure. These round 
dwelHngs are made entirely of the wood of the 
bread-fruit tree, the only wood which the white 
ant will not destroy. No nails are used, but 
the fastenings are of fibre. Within mats hang 
on cross-pieces six feet from the floor, to be 
thrown down when visitors enter, for seats. 



The Fairest of the Fair, 137 

Alongside the theatre lies a long canoe, made 
of Ifilili wood, its high, sharp prow decorated 
with an inlaying of cowry shells, 

After passing Java restaurant (so called be- 
cause it faces Java village) I saw the peaked 
gables of Germany rising over their high wall. 
Above the gateway is inscribed in old German 
characters the words Deutsches Dorf. A 
blare of military music resounds from within, 
and the clink of beer mugs, and as the music 
expires with a crash I hear the chorus of 
*'Bravos" and the hand-clapping; the Ger- 
mans are having a good time. While this 
uproar is still ringing in my right ear, my left 
is assailed by a peculiar quick drumming, 
mingling with the monotonous piping of 
wooden pipes in the minor key. In a kiosk on 
the other side of the way are seated half a 
dozen Turks, in the costumes of their country, 
and one is walking about clad in a garment of 
sheep's-skin, very thick and stiff, with a large, 
pointed hood, and a sort of sheath in which to 
put his stout staff or crook — for he is a shep- 
herd from the Balkans. Short is he, and 
swarthy, with a discontented expression, which 
may be the result of his unseasonable garment 



138 The Fairest of the Fair. 

— though I suspect it is due to an intense de- 
sire, violently repressed by circumstances, to 
murder the Clergyman ! 

Who is the Clergyman ? It is by that title 
that my companion and I privately agreed to 
mean the tall, meagre, close-shaven American 
whose business it is to descant on the educa- 
tional features presented by the Turkish Thea- 
tre behind the kiosk. This gentleman wears 
short English whiskers in front of his ears, has 
a large aquiline nose, and thin, low eyebrows. 
There is about him an infuriating suggestion of 
saintliness. He is the ideal of a divine fallen 
from his pulpit estate ; his nasal twang, his 
angular gestures, his gloomily compassionate 
expression — all. At the beginning of the sea- 
son he wore black clerical garments and a 
black silk hat ; but later — as a penance, per- 
haps — he arrayed himself in a tweed suit, with 
a white tourist's helmet and drab gaiters. 

Near him sits one of the Turks, in a short, 
red embroidered jacket, baggy white trousers 
to the knee, slippers much curled up at the 
toes, embroidered stockings, the inevitable sash 
round his waist, and a small white turban on 
his head. The music strikes up with fresh 



The Fairest of the Fair, 1 39 

vigor. It proceeds from two instruments, a 
long wooden pipe and a peculiar drum. This 
drum is made of earthenware, in the shape of 
a demijohn, with a thick neck and a wide 
mouth, over which is stretched a piece of 
parchment ; it is held under one arm and 
thumped with the fingers of the other hand, 
with graceful movements of the wrist. As the 
sound begins, the white-trousered and embroid- 
ered Turk arises. In his hands he balances a 
pole, and hops from one foot to the other on 
the small platform, grinning the while an im- 
movable and glassy grin. The Clergyman 
ever and anon claps his hands in a would-be 
bUthesome manner, and says " Hah !" After 
awhile the music and dance stop, and he turns 
to the crowd which has gathered in front of the 
kiosk, clears his throat, and begins : — 

** Ladies and gentlemen : I have made this 
Httle speech of mine to probably five hundred 
thousand people, in the course of this season, 
who have stood where you are standing now. 
Not all, but many of them, have afterwards en- 
tered our theatre, and have been well repaid 
for the trifling expense involved in doing so — 
twenty-five cents or fifty, according to the loca- 



I40 



The Fairest of the Fair, 



tion of the seats they occupy." He goes on to 
describe the several Turks on the platform, 
and, coming to the dancer: *'You have heard 
the Turks characterized as a grave people, to 
whom laughter and fun are distasteful. This is 
not the whole truth, however. This man whose 
dancing you have just witnessed is El Howsi, 
the Funny Man of Turkey. He is regarded 
by the Princes and Lords whose houses he 
visits in his native land, as being all that is 
witty, ^//that is humorous . . . . " 
I pass on. 

More drumming. Before the door of the 
Bedouin encampment sits a dark, handsome 

woman, with 
flashing eyes 
and teeth, and 
dressed in flow- 
ing robes of rich 
hues ; chains of 
sequins hang on 
both sides of her 
face, flashing, 
too, with her 
every move- 
ments She plays 




The Fairest of the Fair. 141 

on the graceful hand drum with a lovely motion 
of the wrists, while a tall Bedouin leans against 
the doorway, his keen eyes roving over the 
crowded Midway. 

A few steps beyond is a blue-and-brown 
striped building, perfectly square, with a wide, 
arched entrance, and a flight of steps slanting 
across the front to the second story. On the 
threshold is seated a grave young Arab in a 
voluminous purple caftan with flowing sleeves, 
and beside him jumps about a boyish Albanian, 
bubbling over with life and jollity ; he wears 
the short, full white skirt, red and gold jacket, 
red sash and red embroidered gaiters from be- 
low the knee to the ankle, which constitute the 
costume of his country ; Turkish shoes are on 
his feet, and his duty is to "whoop in" the 
drifting crowds. 

His serious companion, in a tone in which 
the effort to be alluring seems to struggle with 
a profound constitutional pessimism reflected 
on his handsome features, informs us that 
there is dancing up-stairs ; that you can obtain 
there, free of charge, Turkish coffee or refresh- 
ments, and that the performance has just be- 
gun. This said, he relapses into brooding 



142 The Fairest of the Fair. 

melancholy, gathering his robe about him, 
crossing his legs, and applying to his lips the 
amber mouthpiece of the nargileh beside his 
chair. 

Now, it is the Albanian's turn ! He comes for- 
ward, dancing all over to the tune played by 
the rival house, next his own establishment. 
He is a powerful, broad-shouldered, ruddy- 
visaged little fellow, smiling with a broad, con- 
tagious smile, and sending forth his lusty voice 
to the top of its compass. "Come !" he cries, 
appealing to the world at large with out- 
stretched arms, " Come ! ! Fine fun up-stairs ! 
Turkish fun up-stairs ! ! Come — everybody 
come ! Wel-come !" He beams upon the respon- 
sively smiling crowd, and claps his hands enthu- 
siastically. The music of the neighboring Bed- 
ouins swells out. He looks contemptuously 
in that direction, and, with a comprehensive 
sweep of both arms — ''They all, fifty cents! 
We, twenty-five cents ! ! Cheap ! Cheap ! ! 
Cheap!!!'* He spins round till his white 
skirt stands straight out, and the long outer 
sleeves of his jacket wave streamer-like. * 'Grand 
times — fine times — everybody welcome !" He 
tosses his arms wide open : " Come ! Stay ! ! ! — 



The Fairest of the Fair. 143 

and disappears with a last swirl of the petti- 
coat. Nothing could be more nearly irresist- 
ible. 

I find strength to resist him for the present, 
however, and continue my course westward, 
past the great Turkish bazar, in the square, in 
front of which is the encampment of Sedan- 
chairs, with their bearers lounging amidst them, 
and smoking cigarettes or drinking beer, or, 
more often, some bright-colored Oriental bev- 
erage, very sweet, flavored with roses or 
orange-flowers. These, together with fruit and 
ice cream, are sold in the square pavilion 
tended by two Turks, and a pretty Turkish 
girl, whose black eyes are additionally dark- 
ened with kohl. One of the Turks is forever 
making a sort of thin cakes, something like 
sweet waffles, over a little fire ; never ceasing, 
meanwhile, to call out to all and sundry, " Zal- 
abiah ! Turkish Zalabiah ! hot — hot — hot !" 

Passing the white mosque at the upper cor- 
ner of the square, with its sharp-pointed mina- 
ret — half-way up which is the little gallery from 
which the muezzin calls at his appointed hours 
— I find myself under the shadow of a bridge, 
where a couple of Moors are peering into the 
II 



144 1^^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 

nickel-in-the-slot machine, called The Great- 
est Electrical Marvel of the Age. To its front 
is affixed a photograph of two dancing girls ; 
and when I, in my turn, dropped in my nickel, 
I saw these same girls through an aperture at 
the side, perform, amidst much whirring of ma- 
chinery, a series of jerky leg-and-arm wavings. 
Emerging from beneath the bridge, I see at 
my left a pretty, tree-begrown German beer- 
garden, with people seated at the tables thickly 
distributed under the shade of the branches. 
They have before them mugs of beer and 
pieces of sausage and brown bread, and most 
of them, are talking German. On my right is a 
high, yellowish wall with a wide wooden door- 
way, partly open, in this end of it, through 
which a stream of people is constantly flowing, 
after having bought tickets at a square window 
on the right of the doorway, or at a striped 
sentry-box on the left. This is the entrance of 
Cairo Street. The high wall consists in part of 
the backs of flat-roofed buildings with small 
windows in the upper story made of carved 
wood. These stand open, and a few caftaned 
and turbaned men lean out of them, smoking 
cigarettes and chatting with one another. 



The Fairest of the Fair. 145 

All at once, the wooden gates below are 
flung wide, and four men in long blue caftans 
and turbans, made by twisting a long strip of 
immaculately white cotton round the ordinary 
red fez, sally forth. Each has a musical in- 
strument, and all combine in a shrill, wild pip- 
ing. Following them appears a camel in red 
trappings, befringed and ornamented with em- 
broidery of cowry-shells, while bells tinkle 
round his neck. Mounted on this stately beast 
is another blue-robed Oriental, beating a couple 
of brass-mounted drums slung before him on 
either side of the saddle. He holds the drum- 
sticks by the thick ends, but makes plenty of 
noise nevertheless. After remaining pictures- 
quely grouped for a few minutes, the procession 
moves onward beside the wall, and out of my 
sight, though the wailing and rattling music 
still fills my ears and vibrates in my breast. 

I hesitate, almost minded to enter that be- 
witching Street of Cairo. But right before me 
and above me is the Big Wheel, revolving 
slowly, and I ke.ep on. To the left is the 
Moorish Palace, an enormous yellow-brown 
structure, many-windowed, and with a pillared 
.doorway ; the walls covered with announce- 



146 The Fairest of the Fair, 

ments of the wondrous sights on view within. 
It is not, however, a genuine Moorish building, 
but an American conglomeration. The prettiest 
thing about it is the great blue dome, netted 
with golden bands ; that is indeed lovely, 
whether the background be sun, moon, clouds 
or blue sky. 

On the opposite side of the way is the Per- 
sian Palace, red and blue, with queer-shaped 
windows of stained glass, and two tall minarets 
decorated with twisting lines of the same rather 
harsh colors. It has two entrances, side by 
side ; one to the arena, where the Zhorkana or 
Persian wrestlers perform ; the other opening 
widely into the main part, where very sweet 
candy is for sale and native workers in brass 
and jewelry ply their trade. 

From an up-stairs window leans a girl with 
bare arms and throat, and fair hair floating over 
her shoulders ; she shakes a tambourine and 
glances roguishly at the pausing crowd. Many 
necklaces encircle her throat, and on her arm 
are jingling bracelets. I catch a glimpse, too, 
of an embroidered jacket and silken draperies. 
On the steps of the main entrance stands a man 
informing those who Ust that there is Circassian 



The Fairest of the Fair. 147 

dancing up-stairs by the prettiest girls on the 
Plaisance, and that if any one wishes to be 
happy before dying now is his opportunity. 

Before the other entrance sit playing the 
hand-drum a couple of the wrestlers, in deep 
purple caftans, girdled about the waist, em- 
broidered vests showing through the V-shaped 
opening at the throat and wearing compact tur- 
bans or the tall, black Persian cap. They 
are powerful, fine-looking men, with mighty 
shoulders. 

The girl disappears from the window and the 
crowd moves on, I with it. I pass a small 
building, before which a man is saying some- 
thing about the smallest electric light ever 
made, and assuring us that the model of the 
Eiffel Tower inside "ain't a panorama, nor it 
ain't a picture." I am now directly under the 
Ferris Wheel. What a tremendous thing it is ! 
It seems to be descending from the sky, and 
the great supports on either side of it have the 
appearance of binding it to the earth rather 
than of upholding it. Slowly and noiselessly 
it swings round in the air, pausing now and 
again to take on or let off passengers. From 
the window of a car highest on the circle flut- 



148 The Fairest of the Fair, 

ters a tiny white speck — a handkerchief. And 
see — some one in the throng below waves back. 
It is an old lady in a black silk dress and plaid 
shawl, a look of mingled anxiety and pride on 
her wrinkled countenance. She evidently fears 
that the intrepid friend or relative up aloft there 
is liable not to get back alive, but she cannot 
help being proud of his courage. 

Beyond the Wheel is the Algerian Village, a 
half circle of booths protected from the sun by 
striped awnings and filled with delightful mer- 
chandise. There is also a bazar, a square 
white building decorated with tiles, and with a 
splendid arched entrance. On the steps two 
little children in vvhite short-sleeved garments 
are eating apples and playing a game with peb- 
bles ; they are beautiful little creatures, with 
clear olive complexions, dark eyes and curling 
hair. This bazar is at one end of the semi- 
circle ; at the other end is a similar building, 
used as a cafe-chantant. In the centre of the 
sweep is a theatre, square too, with three domes. 
Like all the Algerian houses it is white, and 
tiles surround the narrow arched windows, form 
two bands across the front, and decorate the 
pillars of the porch. These tiles are chiefly green 



The Fairest of the Fair, 149 

and blue, in a pretty conventional pattern, and 
have a fine effect against the smooth white walls. 
The space from the Plaisance thoroughfare to 
the porch is covered with a broad awning. Two 
Arabs pace up and down behind the slender 
pillars of the porch, carrying long muskets 
richly inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and scimitars 
on their thighs. By the fountain in the centre 
of the court sit two huge Numidians, black as 
jet, wrapped in the snowy burnous of the Arab. 
At the booth close beside me stands a short, 
thick-set man, with the grizzly bristles of a 
week-old beard on his broad cheeks, a white 
cloak reaching to the ground on his shoulders, 
and on his head an enormous straw hat, with a 
row of tassels round the brim. He is trying 
to sell to a hesitatipg young American woman 
a blue enameled bracelet, very delicate and 
pretty, and he has exhausted every laudatory 
adjective that the French and English languages 
afford over the effect it produces when clasped 
on her wrist. The price is two dollars. " Ye-es," 
she says, "it's quite pretty; but I think I like 
//^/5 better." " This " is not another bracelet, 
but a glass paper-weight, undisguisedly Ameri- 
can, containing a view of the United States 



150 TJie Fairest of the Fair. 

Government Building in impossibly brilliant 
colors. It is very large and terrible, and costs 
about as much as the exquisite bracelet. But 
that young woman buys the block of glass and 
retires rejoicing, while the big Algerian shrugs 
his shoulders, hangs up the bracelet, and ex- 
changes a few remarks with the man beside 
him ; the tone, if not the words, being perfectly 
intelligible to me. 

Passing Algiers I come to Old Vienna, the 
gabled roofs of which, looking down on the 
road, are as quaint as the pictures in an old 
German fairy-book. At the entrance stands a 
stout man in the costume of a German sene- 
schal of the Middle Ages, leaning on his hal- 
berd. From within sound forth the strains of 
a well-played waltz. 

Just beyond Old Vienna is a high fence, 
strongly made of posts covered with rough 
bark, and furnished with a narrow promenade 
on the top. Prancing up and down there is 
something that resembles a man. Yes, it 
really is a man, wearing a hideous black mask, 
and a very short and thick grass petticoat, 
from beneath which appear a pair of cotton 
drawers, green and yellow. The upper part 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 5 i 

of him is rattling with necklaces and armlets 
of shells and beads. He skips along the 
fence, stops and shakes himself up and down 
in an absurd way, and at last disappears 
through a hole, evidently having difficulty with 
his petticoat. He is the Medicine Man of the 
Dahomey Village. 

Opposite is the Captive Balloon and Park ; 
and high overhead floats the great globe, small 
black heads projecting over the edge of the 
basket. Waving handkerchiefs make white 
specks against the dark, burnished sides of the 
bag. 

But the sun is getting low, and if I want to 
hear the muezzin call I must return at once, 
paying no attention to the yelling man in front 
of the Ostrich Farm, or to him who says I 
should not miss this chance to see the Red 
Man in his paint and war-dance. As I retrace 
my steps I feel that I am myself a part of Mid- 
way now ; and I shall be ready, after the 
muezzin has called, to begin a more intimate 
acquaintance with it. 



XH. 

There are two minarets in the Plaisance, 
and two muezzins. The Cairo Street minaret 
is the taller and the more beautiful, and there- 
fore its muezzin is the better worth hearing. 
Besides, Cairo Street is one of the two places 
that I visit every day — and sometimes twice a 
day — no matter what else I leave unseen ; the 
other being the South Sea Island Theatre. I 
will go to Cairo Street now. 

Once within its massive, iron-hinged oaken 
doors, and my ticket surrendered to the tall 
young Moor in white sitting just inside, I am 
in another world. Chicago, with its many- 
storied buildings, its roaring streets, its whirring 
cable cars — can there be such a place within 
less than ten miles of me ? Does it exist at 
all ? For me, at any rate, it exists no longer. 
The memory of it fades out of my mind, and 
is gone. I am in ancient Egypt, and I listen 
to catch the whisper of the Nile mingling with 
the rippling tongue of the Arabs that sounds 

152 



The Fairest of the Fair. 153 

on every side of me, and with the piping and 
drumming of the musicians, and the strange 
grunting of the camels, and the pattering of 
the donkeys' hoofs on the brick pavement. 

The Street extends northward a httle way 
from the entrance, to the East Square, where 
the camels kneel on mats, with their sneering 
countenances uplifted high in the air, and their 
pointed hocks projecting ridiculously behind. 
There are six of them, and about twice as 
many small gray donkeys, clean-limbed and 
preternaturally long-eared. Necklaces of brass 
and blue beads ornament the necks of these 
little creatures, and round the huge red pom- 
mels of their saddles a broad strap passes, and 
is carried under their tails, as if to keep their 
hind legs from running away. 

From the Square the Street trends, with 
many a pause and twist, westward, debouching 
at length into another Square, bounded by the 
Temple of Luxor, and sundry huts and tents. 
The predominating color of the houses here in 
Cairo is a light, sunny buff, variegated with 
horizontal stripes of pale pink or soft brown on 
the lower stories, and with suggestions here and 
there of blue. The upper stories project, and 



154 '^^^^ Fairest of the Fair, 

are enriched with windows of Meshrebie — 
carved wood, dark with the darkness of past 
ages ; for some of these panels are centuries 
old, and have been bodily brought thither from 
real Cairo. Most of the windows project, in 
their turn, beyond the structural projections of 
the houses ; but some are flush with the wall. 
Inserted in them are small casements that 
swing open, and shut again unless held. Little 
projections also jut forth, in which are placed 
porous jars of water, to be cooled by evapora- 
tion. 

On the east side of the East Square is a cafe, 
raised a few feet above the level of the pave- 
ment, and made attractive by its Moorish 
arches and Oriental lattice-work. Here I liked 
to sit and look westward across the Square and 
down the crooked street. I could see more of 
the fascinating spectacle from here than from 
any other spot. 

Close in front of me is the Mosque, lighter 
in hue than the other buildings, and banded all 
the way up with broad pink stripes. The two 
big windows of the ground floor are grated, and 
have wide sills, on which people sit to watch 
the camel riding, and the daily Wedding Pro- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 155 

cession. A slender pillar divides each of the 
upper windows in the centre, making two 
graceful arches of each. The lower halves of 
them are latticed. From the level of the roof 
upward rises the minaret, beautiful beyond de- 
scription. It is a copy of the most celebrated 
minaret in Cairo, so they say, and well do I 
believe it ! For surely nothing could be love- 
lier than that fretted and columned tower, with 
its triple, graduated balconies, and its slender 
arched windows and apertures. The airy, 
rounded crown of it is surmounted by a cres- 
cent, whose points just meet ; and the soft col- 
oring of white and pink give the finishing touch 
to its ethereal beauty. The original stands on 
the Mosque of Abou-Bake-Mazhar — some dark 
Oriental who died many a year since on the 
banks of the mysterious Nile. Blessed be his 
name ! 

On a corner of the Street further down is a 
pavilion known as the Sebil of Abdarrad an 
Khat Hoadi. Two large grated windows pierce 
the lower story, and above is an arched loggia, 
delicately arabesqued. An array of rainbow- 
hued Oriental drinks stands on the ledge of one 
of the lower windows, and against the wall 



156 The Fairest of the Fair, 

leans smoking a young Turk in a silk-striped 
caftan, ready to succor thirsty wayfarers. The 
other window-ledge is at this moment occupied 
by two Nubians, one in flowing white and 
scarlet fez, the other turbaned and in blue. 

Adjoining the Sebil, on the right, is the 
theatre, where the Nautch girls dance. On the 
left, the narrow Street twists out of sight, lined 
with booths — square openings in the wall, with 
a doorway on the right, and a counter occupy- 
ing the rest of the front. Behind this counter — 
which is heaped with lovely pierced and chased 
brass work, or with caftans, turbans, and rare 
embroideries, or with red and yellow slippers 
with up-curled toes (that passing donkey-boy 
has a pair of them on his brown feet)— sits the 
lord and owner, smoking his hookah cross- 
legged ; or, perhaps, like yonder bamboo pipe- 
maker, at work on articles which, when fin- 
ished, are added to the picturesque heap on the 
loaded counter, or are piled up on the floor. 

This Street is not only one of the most fasci- 
nating, but also the jolliest place on the Plai- 
sance. Here come, full tilt, two men astride a 
couple of tiny donkeys, the grinning donkey- 
boys following hard behind, shouting, " Look 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 5 7 

owet ! Look ow-^W' to the laughing and 
cheering crowd. But the best fun is in the 
East Square. There is always a throng there 
to see the camels getting up and kneeling down 
with riders on their backs. When some timid 
neophyte clings desperately to the so-called 
saddle, and bounces back and forth at each 
lurch, with half-suppressed shrieks, or begs : 
"Take me off at once — take me off— take me 
. . . . " in a rapidly crescendo key, this 
crowd of on-lookers roars with delight. There 
is, by the way, a marked difference between 
the camel-drivers and the donkey-boys, though 
both wear blue or black caftans and white tur- 
bans. The camel-drivers are gloomy and taci- 
turn, and say " Look owet !" in a curt, surly 
tone. On one of them we have bestowed the 
title of The Evil Camel-Driver. Secret and 
Mephistophelian is his delight in any mishap 
to his rider. He is short and wide, and his 
caftan cannot have been washed since the time 
of the Pharaohs. A piece of rope serves him 
for a sash, and even his turban is the worse for 
wear. As for shoes, he wears none at all. 
When a customer approaches his kneeling 
beast, he scans him or her for symptoms of 



158 The Fairest of the Fair. 

timidity. Should he discover any, a gleam of 
evil triumph flashes across his features. His 
victim mounted, he, in the preoccupation of 
making change, quite forgets to warn her (for 
of course the women only are afraid) to lean 
first backwards and then forwards. When the 
lurch comes, therefore, the rider is usually 
caught in a cramped-up attitude, relaxed in 
body and distraught in mind. As the camel 
hoists himself on his hind legs, flop she goes 
on his neck, and ere she can recover her breath 
or her senses, another sickening lurch all but 
sends the now demoralized creature flying over 
the stern. Her features are convulsed in a 
sickly smile, she doubles over and clings with 
both hands to the saddle ; her hat is on one 
side, and the crowd far below her bellows with 
unsympathetic glee. Meanwhile, The Evil 
Camel-Driver, with head bent and eyes fixed 
on the pavement, conducts the camel along by 
the rope which he tucks under his arm, always 
mlittering his " Look owet I" a moment too late 
for the unwary bystander, who turns to find the 
camel's head over his shoulder and his body 
apparently filling the whole street, before the 
driver's warning has reached his understanding. 



The Fairest of the Fair. 159 

Many people, however, are quite at home on 
their camel, and indeed they are easy enough 
to ride, even when rising or kneeling, if one 
has ever ridden anything at all in the shape of 
a !iving animal. 

The visitors to Cairo Street — the Americans, 
Germans and other infidels who throng the 
narrow ways and surge into the square — are 
themselves an entertaining spectacle. Up and 
down they pass, staring in at the booths, pour- 
ing in at the theatre entrance, crowding about 
Khalil Nada, the Egyptian conjuror (who walks 
along with an ^'g^ in his left eye and another 
in under his left ear, preceded by a quartette of 
musicians, and stopping ever and anon to make 
his eggs miraculously vanish and reappear), or 
joking with the merry donkey-boys, Moham- 
med especially, the proprietor of Mary Ander- 
son, and the j oiliest urchin on the Street, 
though Hassan, master of Yankee Doodle, is 
a close second ; and, as I say, they are an 
amusing spectacle in themselves, these curious, 
jostling, skeptical, good-humored Americans. 
Nevertheless, the best time really to see and 
enjoy Cairo Street is during the hour, late in 
the afternoon, when most of us have gone to 
12 



i6o The Fairest of the Fair, 

dinner and the Orientals are temporarily left 
to themselves. 

This is the hour I love. See, beside that 
arched doorway, full in the warm light of the 
declining sun, that group whose blue and white 
caftans and scarlet fezes are relieved so richly 
against the mellow wall. How comfortably, 
and with what expressive gestures, do they 
gossip and laugh together ! and now one of 
them puts a hand to his turban and extracts 
from its folds a cigarette and a match, lights 
the cigarette, and passes the match to his com- 
panion, from whose own turban another cigar- 
ette has been produced. A Dancing Girl passes, 
a black shawl over her head and shoulders, her 
white stockings and high-heeled shoes showing 
below her bright skirts ; they call to her, and 
laugh again. Near the camels the camel- 
drivers squat together, and one of them plunges 
his brown hand down into the inward depths of 
his caftan to fish out a fistful of change, which 
he counts over carefully. A Flower-Girl sits 
down to rest on the step of a booth ; she is 
dressed in voluminous black robes, with pink 
and blue under-sleeves, and covered as to the 
lower part of her face with a triangular black 



The Fairest of the Fair, i6i 

veil, which hangs down below her breast, and is 
supported at the centre by a great bronze bead 
attached to her head-dress. She holds a bas- 
ket of carnations on her knee, and flirts with a 
donkey-boy beside her, who approves himself 
almost as proficient in the art as she. Two 
other donkey-boys are leaning their stomachs 
• over the backs of their respective beasts and 
conversing animatedly. A Turk with a big 
apron on is hurrying into one of the houses 
with a tray full of covered dishes. Down the 
Street, another Turk, in bright green Turkish 
jacket and trousers, emerges from the cigarette- 
booth and accosts a tall Soudanese— a regal 
creature, black as night, with hair hanging in 
tight ringlets round his head, and standing up 
stiffly on the crown. He wears a white toga 
gracefully draped, one end flung over his 
shoulder; black though he is, there is no 
handsomer man in Cairo Street. Now, one of 
the camel-drivers mounts his camel, jerks the 
rope, the ungainly creature sways to his feet 
and swings off down the street, his feet spread- 
ing out at every step. The other drivers follow 
their companion's example, and one or two 
small boys, who have been playing in the 
Street, scramble on behind just in time, 



1 62 The Fairest of the Fair, 

The sun is near the horizon ; the sky is 
a-flush with deep rose, against which the hght 
and graceful minaret is clearly outlined. As 
my eyes rest on it with delight, a figure emerges 
through a door on the lower balcony and 
spreads forth his arms. It is the muezzin at 
last : and hark 1 he begins the call to prayer. 
Clear and high above the noises here around 
me his voice rises and falls with a sound wild 
and solemn. It seems immeasurably far away, 
and yet it fills all the air. Slowly he paces 
round the little balcony and, while his lingering 
cry yet rings in my ear and stirs my heart, he 
vanishes again through the arched door. 

But, for a golden moment, the spell remains. 
I smtll the perfume of the lotus, and behold 
across the wide desert the mighty sides of the 
Pyramids, a train of long-necked camels defil- 
ing before them. The hot air touches my 
cheeks ; I slip back hundreds of years into the 
past, and am traveling with the caravan, which 
has once more come within hearing of that 
weird call to prayer. 

But, it is for a moment only. With a sigh, I 
step down from the cafe, and mingle with the 
throng that is again beginning to fill Cairo 
Street, 



XIII. 

About four o'clock every afternoon a typi- 
cal Wedding Procession passes through Cairo 
Street. 

In no respect does it resemble a wedding 
procession as we have it, except as to the es- 
sential point that it apprises the world of the 
fact that there has been a marriage. But it is 
more picturesque than most of ours are, and it 
always attracts a crowd. This is what happens : 

The East Square is cleared and swept. The 
spectators collect on the steps of the mosque, 
and line the sides of the Square and of the nar- 
row street. Meanwhile, from the western re- 
gion is heard approaching the shrill piping of 
the pipers, and the rattle of the camel-drums. 
The Procession is under way, and now the 
head of it winds into view. 

First come two "Runners" — handsome 
young Arabs, with shapely figures. In real 
Cairo, youths like these run before the carriages 
of the nobility ; and I have once or twice seen 

163 



164 The Fairest of the Fair. 

them in the Fair Grounds running before two 
Turks, who were galloping at full speed on 
donkey-back. Their action in running is very 
graceful and tireless ; but the strain must be 
severe, and they are said to commonly die 
young. 

They wear full white knickerbockers — if such 
a name may be applied to an Arabian article of 
dress — of fine linen-lawn, and full sleeves of 
the same fabric, caught together at the back, 
flutter in the breeze of their movement like 
wings. Over their embroidered white shirts 
they have a short, sleeveless jacket, and their 
loins are girt with a sash whose flying ends are 
fringed with gold. They are barefooted and 
barelegged below the knee ; in their hands they 
carry long, slender wands, ringed with black, 
to wave back the crowd. Beautiful rings cover 
their fingers. 

Next, blowing lustily on long wooden pipes, 
march four blue-caftaned musicians, followed 
by as many camels in gorgeous housings ; the 
two first camels having drums on either side 
the pommels of their saddles, on which two 
blue-gowned drummers are thumping. On one 
of the rear camels sit two men, whose occupa- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 165 

tion it is to slap each other's faces at intervals, 
and twitch each other's turbans, maintaining 
the while an expression of fish-like composure. 
They perform the same antics on the street at 
intervals during the day, and it is said that this 
is a method adopted by Egyptian beggars to 
solicit alms. I have noticed that, in their street 
performances, an inverted turban is handed 
about amongst the crowd for backsheesh. 

On the fourth camel sits solitary a wild, fierce- 
looking Arab in a striped caftan, his long hair 
blowing about his shoulders. A scimitar dan- 
gles from his belt, and in his hand he carries a 
long, light pole. 

Now comes a couple of brown-skinned wrest- 
lers, nearly naked, and behind them two Turk- 
ish swordsmen, swinging their scimitars about 
and bounding from side to side. One of them 
is very stout, with an enormous stomach, but 
he is as agile as a boy. 

Next, supported on poles between two camels, 
appears a palanquin of carved wood, with flut- 
tering silk curtains, from between which peep 
the mischievous black eyes of two or three 
little boys, and a little brown hand waves 
patronizingly to the spectators. 



1 66 The Fairest of the Fair. 

Last of all, march half a dozen veiled women 
in black and pink garments, uttering at inter- 
vals a shrill, trilling call. Between the two 
last walks the bride herself, veiled from head 
to foot in red, so that all that can be seen of 
her is her height, which is that of a twelve- 
year-old girl. I have heard it whispered, how- 
ever, that the bride's part is assumed by a boy ; 
perhaps mock brides are not good form in 
Egypt. An awning is held over her head by 
four small boys in blue or black caftans and 
red fezes ; they walk unevenly, and the awning 
sways to and fro at haphazard. 

Arrived at the Eastern Square, the procession 
rings itself round the central space, crowding 
the spectators against the wall. The wrestlers 
advance to the centre, roll each other over in 
the dust, and perform various antics. Then a 
Nubian and one of the musicians engage in a 
clever and pretty bout at single-stick, and the 
wild, long-haired Arab slips down from his 
camel and dances a sword-dance, remounting 
his camel without making it kneel. 

Meanwhile the two fencers are beginning to 
swoop about, and, the space being clear, they 
stride in, striking their blades defiantly against 



The Fairest of the Fair. 167 

the small round targets they carry. Most of 
their time and energy are expended in bound- 
ing and skipping about at opposite sides of the 
arena, neither seeming to pay attention to the 
other. They clash swords and shield together 
before, behind, above their heads, slash the air 
on all sides fiercely, sweep their swords over 
the pavement, as if to set their edges, leap into 
the air, twirl about, and, at last, rush suddenly 
at each other, and exchange a volley of hght- 
ning-like blows. The next moment they have 
whisked themselves apart, and are bounding 
and clashing, each in his own corner, once 
more. Again they meet, and so it goes on un- 
til one of them kneels on one knee and crosses 
his arms over his head — and so the other wins. 
The fat one is usually the winner. 

Anon the music strikes up ; the procession 
falls into hne ; the camels lunge forward, and off 
they all go. But, at the door of the theatre, 
there is a halt and a slight confusion ; a man 
has rushed up to the bride, caught her in his 
arms, and made off with her, followed by the 
women. This represents the seizing of the 
bride by the bridegroom, and ends the display. 

As the Nautch dancing within the theatre is 



1 68 The Fairest of the Fair. 

about to begin I enter with the crowd. The 
large, curtainless stage is decorated with beau- 
tiful hangings which make a background for 
Oriental arms and armor ; lamps of pierced 
brass swing from the ceiling ; two long divans 
extend the breadth of the stage against the 
wall. On that to the left of the centre sit nine 
or ten girls ; on the other, half a dozen Turkish 
and Moorish musicians, with pipes, hand-drums 
and odd stringed instruments. 

The spacious auditorium includes a gallery 
supported on Moorish arches ; it is ornamented 
with festoons and streamers, and with several 
portraits of the Khedive. 

After a prelude by the orchestra, one of the 
girls uncrosses her legs, gets down from the 
divan, shakes out her skirt, pushes her girdle 
down over her hips, and walks to the centre 
of the stage. A very short, cutaway Turkish 
jacket covers her breasts and shoulders ; it is 
red, blue, or any brilliant color, and is heavily 
embroidered and fringed with gold. Her skirt, 
reaching nearly to the ankles, hangs from the 
hips, leaving all the upper part of the body not 
covered by the jacket bare ; though, in defer- 
ence to American susceptibilities, a diaphanous 



The Fairest of the Fair. 



169 



gauze undershirt is worn. Numerous necklaces 
encircle her neck and hang down below her 
breast. From her girdle swing six tasseled 
ribbons. Her stockings are either white or of 
some hue contrasting with the skirt, which 
sometimes matches the jacket and is sometimes 
striped. On her feet are high-heeled embroid- 
ered slippers, kept on by the toes. Thus 
arrayed, she begins the Danse du Ventre. 

It is a wonderful dance, and though these 
particular girls do not happen to be graceful, it 
is easy to see that it may be so executed as 
to be very beautiful. The ,^^ 
dancer moves her feet 
and legs but little ; most 
of the time she is standing ! 
in one place, then sidles along 
a little way and stops again. 
There is a continual swaying of 
the arms, and the peculiar cas- 
tanets she wears on her fingers 
make a tinkling sound in time with 
the music. Indeed, it is the dancer 
who gives the time, changing it to 
suit the different phases of the dance, 
and occasionally half turning to ad- 
monish the musicians. 




1 70 The Fairest of the Fair, 

The dance is something more than its name 
implies ; it involves movements of the entire 
front of the body from the hips to the head, 
and including the breasts. The control which 
the dancer has over all the muscles of this 
region is truly astonishing. The body poises 
itself lightly between the hips, which maintain 
a swaying motion, while the body itself is made 
to exhibit every variety of undulation, up and 
down, sideways and circular. Sometimes her 
crossed hands hold a silken scarf before her 
face ; she drops the castanets and makes a 
peculiar soft snapping sound with her fingers. 
Again, she stands erect, and a singular vibra- 
tion or shivering takes possession of her whole 
body, making the necklaces jingle on her 
bosom, and the ribbons on her sash shake. 
One of the most striking figures of the dance 
is a movement from side to side of the head 
upon the shoulders, which recalls the action of 
a serpent as it erects itself on its coils. 

Occasionally there are variations, as when 
the girl seizes a chair between her teeth and 
balances it above her head, continuing mean- 
while the regular undulations of the dance ; or 
holds a chandelier of lighted candles on her 



The Fairest of the Fair, 1 7 1 

head. But, substantially, all the girls dance 
alike, both in this theatre and in the others in 
the Plaisance. Of course, in such a perform- 
ance almost everything, so far as beauty of 
effect is concerned, must depend upon the har- 
moniousness and smoothness of the dancer's 
movements; anything like jerkiness spoils and 
vulgarizes it. The most graceful dancers in 
the Plaisance do not appear on this stage. 

Each of the girls danc-es in her turn, and 
while they are waiting they sit cross-legged on 
the divan looking on, or contemplating the 
audience, or chatting with one another. Now 
and then one will get up and disappear behind 
the curtain at one side of the stage to take a 
drink of sherbet or smoke a cigarette, or per- 
haps change her costume. The musicians also 
saunter in and out as the humor seizes them ; 
when one gets tired of playing he hands his 
mstrument to a companion and goes off. After 
all the girls have danced there is a fencing 
match similar to that at the Wedding Proces- 
sion. This concludes the performance, and 
you are then at hberty either to go out, or to 
stay and see it all over again. 

The religious dance in the Temple of Luxor 



172 TJie Fairest of the Fair. 

is the same in principle as this, but less pro- 
nounced. The Egyptian girl who dances it is 
clothed in garments like unto those worn by 
the painted figures on the Temple walls, which 
are exact reproductions of the original designs 
in Thebes. The temple is ^evere and massive 
in architecture, beautiful with a beauty as un- 
like that of the minaret as can be conceived. 
Down the aisles of the great Hall are ranged 
sarcophagi, with wooden models of mummies 
in them — mummies of kings who died as many 
centuries before as we are living after Christ. 
At the further end, flanked by effigies of gods 
with strange names, is a platform whereon sit 
half a dozen men in Egyptian costume — silken 
robes of red and blue, and the stately head- 
dress, with pendants beside the cheeks. They 
play on stringed instruments with long handles. 
With them sits a lovely girl with a harp, quite 
unlike our harps. But the girl who now arises 
to dance is lovelier than the other. Such a 
face as hers may some fair maiden of Rameses 
Second's time have had, and upon it seems to 
rest a soft, transparent shadow. Everything 
about her is gentle, sweet and soft, and very 
low and musical is her voice. Her movements 



The Fairest of the Fair, 173 

in the dance are graceful, slow and strange, as 
is the music. She ceases all too soon, and I 
leave the Temple reluctantly. The very atmos- 
phere of ancient Egypt is there. 

At the door of Khalil Nada's little Home of 
Mystery is hopping up and down a big Moor, 
calling out over and over again : ''Just begin- 
ning, yV^^/ begun ! just beginning, y?/5/ begun !" 
and occasionally for a change : " Come, come ! 
come, come !" The great magician himself is 
a strong, spare, good-humored man of middle 
size, dark, with a small turban, and a blue 
caftan girdled at the waist. He appears bare- 
legged, and with his two miraculous eggs in 
their customary positions, beckons, smiling, and 
vanishes again. Complying with his invitation, 
I find him squatting on a small platform, ready 
to begin. At his suggestion the audience drew 
their chairs up close to the stage, and he pro- 
ceeded to do some excellent tricks. But his 
tricks of manner were even more engaging 
than his magic. When about to make a nut 
change to an ^gg, or to bring some article he 
needed from the empty air, he would cry, as if 
summoning his familiar spirit, " Gah-lah, Gah- 
lah, Gah-lah !" and Gah-Iah, whoever he was, 



174 T^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 

never failed him. The trick being done, he 
would mutter, with an inquiring intonation, 
''Very clevah ?" and then, seeing an assenting 
smile on our faces, ''Very clevah!" In addi- 
tion to Gah-lah, who is invisible, he possesses a 
visible familiar in the shape of a hideous and 
unnaturally sagacious ape, who rides about 
Cairo Street on what is said to be, and cer- 
tainly must be, the smallest donkey in the 
world. Khalil Nada is the most delightful old 
enchanter I ever met. 

Over the door of the Soudanese Tent is 
written, "See the Soudanese Baby Dance; 
Only Eighteen Months Old !" And though 
the months go by, the Soudanese Baby re- 
mains the same age. But it is a cunning little 
thing, and imitates the grown-up dancers finely, 
which would be still more remarkable were 
their "dancing" anything more than simple 
jumping up and down. The Baby stamps round 
indefatigably after its mother, and one of the 
men, a wiry, shock-headed little fellow, with a 
bustle made of rattling lamb's hoofs, throws a 
great deal of energy into his performance, 
stamping and jumping, and rushing hither 
and thither. Passing through this tent I came 



The Fairest of the Fair, 175 

to the conical Soudanese huts, occupied by the 
tall, handsome creatures in white togas whom 
I had already met in Cairo Street. The huts 
have little three-cornered doors, hardly big 
enough to squeeze through, and which shut 
after one of themselves. The men, women 
and children are crowded together here so 
closely that the air is unpleasant to breathe; 
their dancing amounts to nothing, while their 
demands for backsheesh are out of all propor- 
tions to their deserts. Altogether, the Soudan- 
ese are much better company out of doors than 
at home. My chief anxiety, when I had got 
in, was to get out again ; but the door was 
hard to find, and, when found, everybody 
seemed to get in front of it. However, I es- 
caped at last, and did not go there again. 

There are two doors by which one may get 
into Cairo Street, but only one to get out by. 
On the house-fronts along the Street are signs, 
" Exit Below," and an extended finger pointing 
westward. But within the eastern gate is a 
very large and stern placard, "No Exit 
Here!" Such, notwithstanding, is the per- 
versity of human nature, that at least one per- 
son out of three makes a resolute effort to ^o 

13 



176 The Fairest of the Fair. 

out by this door. It requires all the profes- 
sional firmness of the Columbian Guard sta- 
tioned there to resist the coaxing of the women 
and the growls of the men. 

"Oh, dear, do let me out! It can't make 
any difference just this once ; and really I 
can't walk back along that horrid street 
again !" says a lady, in accents of despair. 

But the Guard shakes his head. 

"You ain't going to make me walk down 
your damned old street, my boy ! I have had 
enough of this place, and I'm going out here !" 
puffs a fat, red-faced man, with a green um- 
brella over his head. 

But back he is obliged to go, nevertheless. 

Others, of more subtle intellect, impercep- 
tibly sidle along towards their goal, looking 
earnestly at the booths, turning to pat a 
donkey, and, at last, in a preoccupied, uncon- 
scious way, attempting to saunter out of the 
fateful gate. But the Guard is ready for them, 
too, and no one, except the caftaned natives of 
Cairo themselves, ever succeeds in leaving the 
Street through those portals. 

I am, myself, in no such haste to depart 
that I cannot spare time for one parting 



The Fairest of the Fair, 177 

glance up and down this delightful thorough- 
fare. 

Three Hindu jugglers, white-robed, with 
orange turbans, pass me on the way to their 
tent. About the neck of the leader is twisted a 
large, Hve serpent, with raised head and quiv- 
ering tongue. Another carries a flute ; and the 
third leads by a string a queer animal, some- 
thing like a stupendous rat, with long hair. 
This creature rushes and jumps about with 
startling agility. Arrived in front of their tent, 
one of the men glances about, sees a bit of a 
brick lying in the road, picks it up, and places 
it before him. Again he looks about, and this 
time picks up a scrap of paper, which he lays 
upon a stone. He waves his hands, hfts the 
paper .... The brickbat has disappeared. 
He replaces the paper, makes another pass 
. . . . Lo ! the brickbat has come back. He 
looks up at the ring of spectators, smiling with 
a flash of his teeth and eyes, points to the tent, 
as much as to say, " Better things in there!" 
and the three pass in. 

From one of the booths a young Turk is 
calling, " Bum-bum candy — nice candy — every- 
body buy! Venez, venez, venez, Madame, 



178 The Fairest of the Fair, 

Monsieur !" There is the flower-girl trying to 
wheedle an old gentleman into buying a carna- 
tion ; he looks both shocked and pleased at 
her importunities, with a tendency to become 
more pleased than shocked. A small Soudan- 
ese girl walks down the street like a princess, 
one beautiful black arm and shoulder bare. 
Here come three men racing on donkeys, 
with yells and laughter. Beyond looms a camel, 
his ungainly neck outstretched. The crowd 
lounges here and there, looking, laughing, 
chattering. Scattered throughout, like plums 
in a pudding, are blue and w^hite caftans, red 
fezes, turbans of all colors, the cream-hued 
burnous of an Arab, a Nubian's black face, a 
group of dark-eyed children, merry donkey- 
boys and gloomy camel-drivers — a whole for- 
eign population in the midst of our familiar 
faces and dresses. For background, there are 
the arched doorways, the sunny walls, the tiny 
bazars. In front of the Temple of Luxor, a 
crimson-clad young Egyptian is clapping his 
hands together, throwing his body from side to 
side, smiling most beguilingly, and chanting 
the refrain, *• 'Gyptian Temple — 'Gyptian Tem- 
ple !'* At the high Meshrebie casement on the 



The Fairest of the Fair. 1 79 

corner a little child leans out and smiles down 
at me, pushing the window open again as it 
swings together. 

And there, slender and fair, rising above all 
the human noise and color of the populous 
street, soars the pure minaret with its fretted 
arches — the embodiment of a benediction ! 



XIV. 

Outside Cairo gates there is always a colony 
of roller-chairs with their attendants, who yawn 
beside or in them, awaiting the return of their 
passengers — who are riding camels and don- 
keys in Egypt, and contemplating the undula- 
tions of the Nautch girls, and, perhaps, trying 
to get out by the forbidden door. I pass by a 
gigantic Columbian Guard lolling against the 
gate-post, and watching with a grimly perfunc- 
tory air the outflowing stream. The turnstiles 
of the Ferris Wheel are in front of me and I 
cross the street and am admitted. 

While the Wheel was still unfinished, I used 
to gaze up its enormous height, and see work- 
men swinging and scrabbling about the spokes 
and stays ; and I resolved never to enter one 
of the cars that were to hang round its mighty 
perimeter. But afterwards, when I had day 
after day observed its stately revolutions on its 
gigantic axle, and had seen innumerable 
people (who looked no braver than I) seated 

1 80 



The Fairest of the Fair, 



i8i 



placidly at the car- windows, I resolved to break 
my resolve, and to ride as high as the highest. 
The cars are large — larger than horse-cars ; 
so there is plenty of room to walk about be- 
tween the revolving stools fixed at the win- 
dows. On entering my car, I sat with my face 
to the east, and so smooth was the motion, 
that it was some moments before I perceived 
that the Wheel was moving. But up it rose, 
steadily, with a sidewise departure from the 



vertical 
easier to see 
Presently, 
the arch of 
eter hid the 
east, I cross- 
other side 
Here the 
stretched 
miles. Chi- 
wards the 
swathed in 
of murky 
the west , 
ly at my 
the Race- 




which it was 
than to feel, 
finding that 
the perim- 
view on the 
ed to the 
of the car. 
level prairie 
out for 
cago, to- 
right, was 
a cloud 
smoke. To 
seeming- 
feet, lay 
Track, 



1 82 The Fairest of the Fair. 

which, as it happened to be Derby Day, was 
thronged with carriages and swarming crowds, 
while the httle horses scurried round the 
circle. So small did the whole thing appear, 
that I could fancy myself picking it all up, 
and watching the great race on the palm 
of my hand. Directly below lay Old Vienna, 
with its band-stand in the middle of the 
square, surrounded by tiny tables with mi- 
croscopic people drinking beer at them. On 
the other side of the way I saw the ostriches 
in the California Ostrich Farm, and the man 
standing before the door of the enclosure, de- 
scribing (in terms to which I had often listened) 
the enormous size of the birds — the funny little 
things ! 

When my car reached the apogee of the 
ascent, the Wheel stopped, and there we swung, 
just above the axle, which is three feet in diam- 
eter, but looked barely the thickness of my 
middle finger. And the inside of the Wheel 
seemed even more tremendous than the out- 
side. 

On the way down, there was a splendid view 
of the Fair City — the great, white, silent build- 
ings, the blue lagoons, the green turf and trees, 



The Fairest of the Fair, 183 

and beyond, the wide, smooth, endless Lake. 
And here was Midway's broad walk, crowded 
from end to end and from side to side, the 
costumes of the denizens of its strange build- 
ings and queer villages always noticeable 
amidst the mass of our sober-clad people. As 
we swung downwards, people and buildings 
waxed momentarily larger. The Street of 
Cairo was a jumble of camels and Arabs 
wedged in the crowd of visitors that filled the 
narrow crookedness between the houses. From 
my lofty position I could see the little courts 
at the backs of the houses, which were not 
meant to be seen by alien eyes ; and the flat 
tops of the roofs, covered with gravel. Some 
caftans and turban-cloths were drying on a 
clothes line ; and a couple of natives sat 
smoking in one of the back yards, on a door- 
step. 

Now I am down to the level of the dome of 
the Moorish Palace ; still downwards we sweep, 
and I can see people looking up at us ; and I 
catch a glimpse of the white arm and shoulder 
of the pretty girl in the Persian Palace window 
Now we are at the lowest point of the circle, and 
can see nothing except some slowly-revolving 



184 The Fairest of the Fair, 

toothed wheels and cranks ; and now we are 
on the rise once more. For, as the whooper-in 
had already informed us, we go twice around 
for our half dollar. 

When at last I alight once more on solid 
Midway, the Wheel seems twice as big as it did 
before. For now I remember its enormousness 
from above, while I am seeing its greatness 
from below. It is big enough even for Chicago ! 

Old Vienna is just the place to rest and cool 
off in. Here, accordingly, I sit, surrounded by 
the irregular square of quaint, century-old 
houses, with a mug of cold beer standing be- 
fore me on a small table ; for all Austrians 
drink beer ; and, while I am in Vienna, I am an 
Austrian. 

There is good music every afternoon by the 
band of white-uniformed Austrians. Very 
bright and new they look, with the sun shining 
on their spotless doublets, and sparkling on 
their brass horns, and golden epaulettes, and 
polished sword-hilts. Not all the corps is on 
duty ; several of them are scattered about at 
the tables, in company with pretty Austrian 
girls, calHng to the kellners (who hurry about 



The Fairest of the Fair, 185 

with a pyramid of foaming mugs balanced on 
a tray in one hand, and half a dozen more 
grasped by the handles in the other) — " Zwei 
bier, bitte !" How contented they look, with 
their white coats and their blond, Germanic 
faces, and their heroic moustachios ! 

I like to sit and look at it all, and to hear the 
German tongue spoken on every side, the 
hearty German laughter, and, when the band 
finishes the crashing miUtary air, or the slow 
love-song, to join in the enthusiastic hand- 
clapping and " bravos." And then, when I 
have drunk my beer, I like to get up and stroll 
round the square, and look into the little shops* 
with their old jewelry, their carved meerschaum 
pipes, their red and blue embroideries, their 
engraved glass, and other Austrian curiosities. 
The shop-girls wear white chemisettes and 
laced bodices, with skirts that show their trim 
ankles. It is a charming old place. 

There is apparently some mystic connection 
between Old Vienna and modern Bulgaria; 
for near the upper gate of the former there is a 
weighing-machine, presided over by a little 
Bulgarian maiden about seven years old. She 
has a Bulgarian Papa in the background, who 



1 86 The Fairest of the Fair. 

looks after the business end of the machine; 
but she does the talking, and is the attraction. 
She told me she was "just not quite five;" and 
no doubt she believes it ; but unless Bulgarian 
little girls are much more rapid in their devel- 
opment than those of other countries, she must 
be unconsciously following the example set by 
the eighteen-months-old Soudanese Baby of 
Cairo Street. At all events, she has a speech 
which she repeats to all and sundry who pass 
her way, running somewhat as follows : " Do 
not spend your money for candy, or in de 
restaurants, which would be foolish ; but come 
and sit in dis chair, and I will tell you your 
correct weight for a nickel." She is a cunning 
little maid, with big, soft, dark eyes, and — 
except when repeating her speech — a shy, 
pretty way of talking. But for her speech she 
assumes a fixed, somewhat anxious expression, 
and rattles it off m a strained voice, without a 
pause for breath. At our request, she said it 
over two or three times, always in just the same 
way. After you have accepted her sage sug- 
gestions, and the machine has registered your 
•'correct weight," she looks up at her father, 
who thereupon examines the bar and announces 



The Fairest of the Fair. 187 

the number to her in a stage whisper, and 
she repeats it in her confident, business tone. 
You put the nickel in her Httle palm, and she 
hands it over to the parental care, and delivers 
her homily once more. 

The houses in Old Vienna are very pictur- 
esque, with their little dormer windows in the 
roof, their peaked gables, their narrow doorways, 
and their inscriptions in antique German charac- 
ters, with many curls and flourishes. There is a 
Rathhaus, with a great iron lantern swinging 
from a crane over the door ; and near it is the 
reproduction of an ancient church. In the 
small-paned windows of the dwelling-houses 
hang white ruffled curtains ; and boxes planted 
with flowers stand on the sills of some of them. 
All is cosy, neat and home-like ; and the merry 
talk and laughter of the beer-drinking, music- 
hearing crowd harmonize with the prevalent 
air of peace and comfort conveyed by the 
buildings. 

When I weary of white Austrian uniforms, I 
can find blackness enough a few steps west- 
ward, in Dahomey. At the bark gateway, my 
ticket is taken by a pigmy Frenchman, in a 
large white helmet such as one associates with 



i88 The Fairest of the Fair, 

Stanley and other intrepid African explorers. 
Stepping past him, a large enclosure is re- 
vealed, bounded on three sides by small, low 
huts, some of them with shallow porches. 
The fourth side, opposite the gate, is occupied 
by a long, narrow building, containing Daho- 
mey an arms, domestic implements and other 
trophies. In the centre of the enclosed space 
is a large oblong pavilion, consisting of a roof 
supported on posts and painted with brilliant 
red, white and blue stripes, over a platform 
raised some two feet above the ground, and 
protected from unauthorized approach by an 
environing rope fence. 

On this platform is a group of about fifty 
men and women, looking exactly like the 
pictures of " natives " in African travel-books. 
They wear a slight garment of green and 
yellow striped calico ; sometimes in the shape 
of a pair of drawers, sometimes as a petticoat 
(very short), and sometimes as a sleeveless 
waist and skirt in one. Half the women and 
nearly all the men are naked to the waist, and 
are destitute of either shoes or sandals. 
Cowry-shell necklaces, and belts decorated 
with cowry shells, hang about them ; bronze 



The Fairest of the Fair, 189 

armlets clasp their arms, and knives, hatchets, 
and short war-clubs are worn in the belt or 
brandished in the air. The figures of the men 
are, as a rule, wiry and powerful, and some of 
them have beautiful chests and shoulders, and 
great ridges of muscle on their backs. But their 
legs and arms are not quite so good ; they are 
apt to be spindly. As for the women, whether 
unmarried "Amazons " or mothers of families, 
they are thoroughly ugly in figure as well as 
face ; their breasts either hang down like long 
empty bags, or project — in the young girls — 
like those of animals. The Amazons have 
scarred themselves all over their faces and 
bosoms in a hideous manner, after the style of 
the male warriors. 

At the southern end of the pavilion, on a 
throne made of what seems to be an old 
barrel, sits the aged king or chief of the tribe. 

He is bent, wrinkled and mild-looking, and 
appears to pay no attention to what is going 
forward. His gray wool is surmounted by a 
rusty bronze head-dress in the shape of a 
crown. The rest of the company may be 
divided into three parts : the Medicine-Man, 
already described, who evidently regards him- 



190 The Fairest of the Fair. 

self as a sort of Adonis, whose only mission is 
to be ornamental, and who strolls about the 
stage in his absurd straw petticoat at his own 
sweet will ; the musicians, and the dancers, of 
whom there are about thirty, of both sexes. 
The orchestral instruments are few and sim- 
ple ; three or four iron bells, some large and 
small drums, with either one or two heads, and 
a small barrel with a piece of skin stretched 
over one end, to the inner side of which is 
attached a thin stick ; the performer draws his 
fingers down this stick, causing the skin to 
vibrate, and producing a hollow, croaking 
noise. Another musician flourishes a sort of 
rattle. There is also a flute ; but the pro- 
prietor of this plays only in the intervals of 
the dances, so that he and the Medicine-Man, 
who toots on a horn made out of a tusk, when 
the humor seizes him, can hardly be said to 
belong to the orchestra. 

The musicians, such as they are, squat round 
the king on old soap-boxes and packing-cases. 
The dancers arrange themselves at the other 
end of the stage, in ranks ; three men stand 
facing them, with their backs to the music. 
The tooting, ringing, rattling, squeaking and 



The Fairest of the Fair, 1 9 1 

thumping begin, and so do the dancers. Their 
performance consists in alternate short ad- 
vances and retreats, with measured steps — 
though by no means serene and slow — in time 
with the music ; they shake their shoulders vio- 
lently to and fro, and, as the music becomes 
more rapid, they throw themselves about faster 
and faster, jumping, and once in awhile simul- 
taneously springing from one foot, making a 
half-whirl in the air, and coming down again 
with a thump. The three other men execute 
a variety of fancy steps and twirlings ; the 
clamor of the instruments grows louder and 
louder, and the dancers themselves never 
cease to bellow out a savage refrain at the 
top of their voices, and, as they grow excited, 
they brandish their clubs and tomahawks and 
yell. All of a sudden, as abruptly as they be- 
gan, they stop, and crowding up to the king's 
end of the platform they enter into a most ani- 
mated conversation with the musicians and 
with one another — so animated indeed that I 
expected to see it issue in a free fight. But it 
is only the Dahomeyan way. Just before the 
dances begin, a couple of men make the cir- 
cuit of the stage, chanting something in a 

14 



192 The Fairest of the Fair, 

fierce tone, and gesticulating threateningly at 
the spectators, who are crowded close to the 
ropes all the way round. Possibly they are 
heaping intolerable insults upon us, but we 
shall never know it, for nothing can be imag- 
ined more hopelessly unintelligible than the 
language of Dahomey. 

The best time to observe them is when they 
are not officially on exhibition, and the plat- 
form is deserted. They lounge about the en- 
closure, go in and out of their huts, or sit on 
their little stoops, cook their meals on the two 
Chicago ranges which occupy huts at oppo- 
site sides of the squares, curl and plait one 
another's wool in fantastic patterns, wash out 
their green and yellow rags, and, once in a 
while get up an impromptu dance outside of 
the pavilion, without music, and just for fun. 
They are friendly and good-natured, anxious 
to shake hands with visitors, borrow cigarettes 
or matches, and converse in sign-language. 

A few of them have picked up some English 
words, which, interlarded with manifold ges- 
tures, carry them far. An interested group 
of on-lookers was watching the brewing of a 
huge bowl full of native drink, when a youn^ 



The Fairest of the Fair, 193 

blackamoor, who had filled his jug with it, 
turned round to us, shook his head, and 
said with a grin, "Chicago beer .... Bad! 
.... Make head . . . . " Here words 
failed him, and he whirled his hand round in 
front of his forehead, and then dropped his 
head helplessly on his shoulder, and shut his 
eyes. " He's been there !" observed a man in 
the crowd ; and there was a general laugh of 
assent, while the negro, pointing to his jug, 
grinned unctuously, and added in sonorous 
tones, "Good .... Chicago beer . . . . " 
completing the sentence with a grunt of hearty 
distaste. 

An old fellow, who sat before the door of his 
hut near the gate, had been so often asked cer- 
tain questions that he knew them by heart, like 
a parrot, without in the least comprehending 
their meaning ; so, when any one paused to 
look at him, he would say in a high, hard 
tone, like that of some American women, 
" Can you speak Englis ? — What you make ? — 
Do you hke here ?" He had got the sounds of 
the words almost to perfection, and the effect 
was too funny for anything. 

One day a conspicuously blonde girl, dressed 



194 ^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 

in white, with a broad-brimmed Leghorn hat, 
was standing in front of the kitchen-hut, watch- 
ing the cooking. A tall and muscular young 
warrior was leaning against the wall of the 
hut, observing us with almost as much interest 
as we betrayed in him. Suddenly his glance 
fell on the blonde girl, and he instantly pointed 
her out to a companion, who scrutinized her 
with the intentness of a cat studying a spar- 
row. The pair discussed the novel phenome- 
non, and the girl grew embarrassed. Soon her 
first admirer called upon another friend, and 
showed him his " find" with an air of propri- 
etorship. She was no longer able to maintain 
even an appearance of unconsciousness, and 
tilted her hat-brim down to hide her face. Her 
new recruit, however, nothing daunted, bent far 
down and peered up under the brim at her. All 
three burst into a laugh, and the girl promptly 
fled from Dahomey Land. 

But the Dahomeyans themselves like being 
made game of no better than did the blonde. 
Once, while the dancing was going on, a man 
in the crowd began poking fun at a drummer 
near him, who understood his tone and gestures, 
if not his words. Suddenly the Dahomeyan 



The Fairest of the Fair, 195 

sprang to his feet, snatched up a war-club, and 
plunged at the joker with a marrow-freezing 
yell. The latter, and all in his vicinity, scat- 
tered back like the followers of Wickliff before 
the charge of Bertram Risinghame. Here- 
upon, the negro actually rolled on the floor in 
ecstasy, and his comrades roared with glee. 

They delight in scaring people, just hke 
naughty children. A visitor having offered a 
cigar to one of them, snatched it back at the 
instant the long black fingers of the Daho- 
meyan were about to close on it. The latter 
leaned over the raihng, still extending one 
hand, while he drew the other significantly 
across his throat. The visitor laughed, and 
tossed him the cigar, remarking, " That's all 
very well ; but you aren't in Dahomey now, my 
boy!'' 



XV. 

There are shows in Midway at which you 
look once and look no more, like the man de- 
scribed by the Ancient Mariner. Not that they 
are fiendish, by any means ; but all there is of 
them can be used up at one visit. 

There is the Ostrich Farm, for instance. The 
long-legged bird-giants stalk about within their 
enclosure, reaching down their small heads at 
the end of their long necks to seek for corn- 
grains, which they devour with as much relish 
and avidity as if each were a pumpkin. A 
man gets inside the fence and says he will 
show us how ostriches are ridden in Africa. By 
the lure of a plate of corn he catches one of 
them by the beak and by the shoulder of the 
left wing. The bird pulls back, flaps and 
kicks out with his hard, sharp toes at the man's 
stomach ; but after a short struggle, the man 
contrives to throw himself over the bird's 
tail, and to clamber half on, holding by the 
feathers. Off sails the ostrich, full trot, and 

196 



The Fairest of the Fair, 



197 



with as light a step as if the man were but an 
apparition ; but after a few moments the rider 
slides to the ground and pulls down his ruffled 
waistcoat. 

Close to the *'Farm" is the little Brazihan 
Concert Hall, where ten or twelve South Ameri- 
can negroes (not natives) are always ^ mk 
dancingasort of quadrille, and sing- ^" ' 
ing at the full compass of their 
vigorous lungs. They are char- 
acterized by immaculate respecta- 
bility and inexhaustible vital- 
ity ; and they maintain a 
demeanor of perfect gravity, 
except when they acknowl- 
edge applause with a 
momentary flash of their . ^ ; 
white teeth. 

There is an Indian 
Village behind a long 
blue fence, with a man 
outside to tell us that 
amidst all the marvels a.nd beauties of the 
Fair in general and the Plaisance in particular, 
there is nothing more worthy of our notice and 
admiration than our own free unadulterated 




198 The Fairest of the Fair. 

wild Indian. I am willing to agree with his 
sentiment, but not with the illustration of it 
behind the blue fence. These Indians are 
tame — depressingly so — in feature and con- 
duct, and when they have done their stint of a 
so-called war-dance, in shirt and leggings, they 
put on European clothes and promenade in the 
Midway, looking much more at their ease than 
in their buckskins. Nevertheless, there is 
among them one old brave, quiet, dignified 
and fine-looking, who had the good taste to 
sit still and do nothing. But the contrast be- 
tween this exhibit and Buffalo Bill's show is 
pathetic. 

At the other end of Midway are the Libbey 
Glass Works, in a bright and pretty building, 
brilliantly illuminated at night with electric 
lights, and in the daytime adorned, as to its 
front lawn, with great masses of raw glass, a 
foot or more in diameter. In the main room I 
saw men melt glass in furnaces so hot that the 
fierce white light beating out of the small doors 
was dazzling. The lump of glass the operator 
was working was on the end of a hollow, metal 
rod, which he kept twirling like a mop all the 
time. When he drew the glass out of the fur- 



The Fairest of the Fair, 199 

nace-hole he blew through the other end of the 
rod, and the red-hot glass swelled up like an 
incandescent soap-bubble, and soon began to 
turn grayish, with blue, green and yellow lights 
through it. At intervals the operator thumped 
and molded the soft glass with a small stick he 
had, then he heated it again, blew it out again, 
twirled and fashioned it, until at last, instead 
of a lump of glowing fire, there was a glass 
bowl, or bottle, or vase, attached by the bottom 
to the end of the rod. The man gave it a 
smart blow, and the thing was done so far as 
he was concerned ; it was sent into the next 
department to be beautified by the chasers and 
cutters. 

I followed it thither. There was a humming 
of many wheels swifdy revolving, and wet 
streams of sand and emory poured over them ; 
and against their tires the engraver or cutter 
held the glass vessel with both hands, and 
there was a rasping noise as the wheel cut into 
the glass with a sharp whirr. 

Spun glass is made with a big broad wheel, 
a blow-pipe, and a glass rod. The rod is held 
against the flame of the blow-pipe, and when 
the point of it melts a stick is applied to it, and 



200 The Fairest of the Fair. 

with a quick movement of the wrist a thread of 
soft glass is drawn out and tossed on the perim- 
eter of the big revolving wheel. This imme- 
diately begins reeling it off the melting end 
of the glass rod, and the process goes on as 
long as any of the rod remains. Sometimes 
the thread breaks at the first attempt, but 
another is wafted on, and once well started it 
will spin away indefinitely, and at a wonderful 
speed. The rod, of course, is continually 
moved forward as it is spun away, so that its 
point is always in the flame of the blow-pipe. 
This spun glass is as supple as silk, and all 
sorts of things are made and woven with it, 
such as bows, neckties, lamp-shades, table- 
covers, even whole dresses. 

Opposite Libbey's is the rival establishment 
of the Venetian glass-makers. The building, 
with its great arched windows of stained glass, 
is handsome externally, but within it is but a 
bare, whitewashed room. But exquisite repro- 
ductions of antique Venetian originals are 
made there. 

On the veranda of the Electric Scenic The- 
atre (which I did not enter) sit a group of Swiss 
men and girls, who yodel in a delightful man- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 201 

ner at intervals during the day. The girls wear 
short, full petticoats of bright colors, white 
chemisettes with short puffed sleeves, and 
gretchen bodices. Corduroy small - clothes, 
short jackets and steeple-crowned Tyrolese 
hats form the men's costume. They are pic- 
turesque, these mountaineers, and their yodel- 
ing is so filled with the breath of the moun- 
tains, with visions of sheer heights and giddy 
peaks, that perhaps if they yodel long enough 
the flat prairie will begin to stir and uplift it- 
self, and Chicago will awake some morning to 
find itself surrounded with hills. Not that 
Chicago is entirely without hills even now. I 
was told that a hill was to be seen within twenty 
miles of the city, and I went and looked at it. 
It really was a beautiful hill, big enough to have 
trees on it. 

In front of the International Costume Ex- 
hibit are a couple of Highland laddies in plaid 
and kilt, with bonnets on their heads and dirks 
at their thighs. Stalwart, ruddy, handsome 
fellows they are, with a fine carriage and a 
swing of the shoulders in walking that is good 
to look at. They have bag-pipes, on which 
one or the other of them is almost always play- 



202 The Fairest of the Fair. 

ing; and the wild, thrilling music goes skirling 
over the Plaisance, and draws a crowd about 
the piper. 

But they are all I saw of the International 
Costume Exhibit, for I not only felt no inclina- 
tion to enter the building, but I was told by 
some one who had been there that it was not 
worth seeing. 

Between the two divisions of the German 
Village (one of which you may enter free, while 
the other costs twenty-five cents) stands a 
mediaeval castle behind its moat, which is 
spanned by two draw-bridges. The village 
proper is on the east of this gray old strong- 
hold. It comprises a quaint town-hall, sur- 
rounded by a number of high-shouldered, 
gabled houses, with projecting upper stories. 
To the west is the twenty-five-cent region, in- 
cluding the beer garden and band stand, where 
two bands play at short intervals during the 
day. It is just like ten thousand other Ger- 
man beer gardens all over America. And it 
lacks the cosiness and bonhommie to be found 
in Old Vienna ; so when I am in a Germanic 
mood it is to the latter place that I betake my- 
self. 



The Fairest of the Fair, 203 

Japan in Midway Plaisance is represented 
only by a bazar, with some life-size figures 
dramatically grouped on a balcony over the 
entrance. But China, in addition to a bazar 
and restaurant — where you get rice a la Chi- 
nois, and Chinese pudding with cream, besides 
American dishes — has a theatre and a Joss- 
house. 

Their building is odd and yet pretty, mainly 
blue and red, with butterflies above the win- 
dows in bright yellow. You enter from the 
Plaisance, passing between two pagodas con- 
nected above by a gallery, which in turn is 
joined to the body of the building, lying some 
twenty yards back from the Way, by an open 
arcade. On the gallery between the pagodas 
are stationed the musicians, or noise-producers, 
keeping up a constant clang and clash of gongs 
and cymbals, through the interstices of which 
penetrate the wild shrieks of pipes or flutes. 
Now the piping is drowned in a storm of ear- 
shattering crashes, and anon it rises again tri- 
umphant above all else. In the occasional 
lulls of the instrumental music, due I suppose 
to the temporary exhaustion of the instrumen- 
tahsts, a voice becomes audible, singing in a, 



204 The Fairest of the Fair, 

high, strained falsetto, the song being as unin- 
telhgible and as inconsequent as the rest of 
the performance. 

The doorway itself, at the end of the arcade, 
is guarded by two hideous gods, with staring 
eyes, standing in postures which — for anything 
less than gods — would be violently uncomfort- 
able. On the left sits a live Chinaman, one of 
the actors, in robes stiff with gold embroidery, 
and of colors so magnificent and so richly com- 
bined, that I marveled never to have seen a 
combination so obviously celestial before. The 
first thing I noticed on entering was a dragon 
with a terrific head and gaping red jaws, its 
serpentine body twisting in many a sinuous 
curve a hundred feet around the central hall. 
It looked as formidable as Vedder's Sea Ser- 
pent. But I was bound for the theatre ; so I 
walked on through the bazar, with its lanterns 
and embroidered silks and resplendent jars — 
amidst which I looked in vain for the famous 
five-clawed dragonware, of which I had found 
some specimens in the Main Building. Pass- 
ing through the heaped-up wealth and beauty 
of the bazar, I ascended some steps and found 
myself in the theatre. The play was on, and 



The Fairest of the Fair. 205 

there was a fair audience. The back benches 
were occupied by some Chinamen, following 
the drama with grave interest. 

The stage was gorgeous with color. Hang- 
ings, screens and costumes were resplendent 
with gold embroidery and every beautiful hue 
under Heaven. Some of the actors wore tall 
head-dresses sparkling with gold and jewels ; 
pendants hung down beside their faces. Those 
dressed as women had their cheeks deeply 
rouged ; the tints of their dresses were softer 
than the harmonious splendor of the males. 

I know not, nor does it matter, what the play 
was about. A King and his Mandarins sat in 
richly carven chairs and languidly waved fans, 
listening to a harangue from one of their num- 
ber, delivered in the strangest voice ever em- 
ployed by a human being — at least so I thought 
until I heard the others make their rejoinders 
in the same astounding squeak. Some women 
came in, sat down, tea-cups were brought in, 
there was more talk, and some strange per- 
formances by the orchestra, which was hidden 
behind a screen at the back of the stage. 
Other characters now entered, among them a 
conjuror, who did some skilful balancing tricks, 



2o6 The Fairest of the Fair, 

and a man with a face painted black and 
white who appeared to be a poUtician — if it 
were about pohtics that the King and Manda- 
rins were arguing. Orders were issued, people 
came or were dragged on or off, the high- 
pitched squeaking was kept up, the fans waved, 
the dresses glowed, no one seemed to get ex- 
cited. I wonder if this is the way real life goes 
on among the upper circles of China. All 
through the performance, two or three ** supes " 
or stage helpers, who had nothing to do with 
the play, lounged about at the corners of the 
stage in common gray and green dresses. At 
last, all the performers come forward in a bril- 
liant row and bow to the audience ; and that is 
all for that evening. I suppose it goes on from 
that point the next day, and will continue to go 
on till the Fair closes. 

From the auditorium I went with some others 
to the Joss-house, where a young Chinaman, 
whose queue had been cut and who wore 
American clothes, interpreted the mysteries to 
us. His English was his own, and was none 
the less interesting because it was often unin- 
telligible ; for when I could not understand him, 
I became all the more fascinated by the ar- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 207 

rangement and pronunciation he imparted to 
his words. 

The Joss-house, being the Chinese church, 
contained chiefly gods and goddesses, some 
large and others but a few inches tall. There 
was a series of groups representing various 
post-mortem punishments of wicked persons 
who had died in their sins. These the China- 
man would explain : " Him there, Judge. That 
man, homely man," designating a figure with 
a black and white face like the stage politician; 
and he went on to identify the other figures in 
the group, ending with the unfortunate prisoner 
who was to be burned, decapitated, torn to 
pieces with pincers, or tortured in some other 
picturesque and ghastly fashion. " Him, bad 
man," said the interpreter. " Him, steal. Him, 
make face — frighten people. Dead — Hell — 
all de time ! Burn — cut — like him now." 

We came to a scene representing Heaven ; 
Chinamen in queues and rich costumes were 
enjoying themselves in it. " Say, Chinaman 
cut hair — go to Hell," he said. ** Not true — 
not true! Chmaman — heart good — go to 
Heaven ; bad — go to Hell ; hair — no hair — 
all same !" In naming the abode of the 

15 



2o8 The Fairest of the Fair, 

wicked, he pointed downwards in a realistic 
manner. 

He showed us circular canopies, mounted on 
poles like a sort of gigantic parasols, which 
are held over the heads of high officials ; and 
a collection of inlaid chairs and dining tables. 
"In China," he said, "only put people three 
side table ; servants, four side ; him give tea, 
meat — help. You — people all sides; we, too— 
but poor people." 

Some one asked him the price of the tables. 
He replied that the bazar was the place to 
make such inquiries. Then he turned to me, 
who had been following his explanations 
closely, and remarked with some indignation : 
" People, ask fool-question. Interrupt. I make 
lecture — I no sell shop." 

After he had conducted us through the house, 
he bowed politely, with a wave of the hand. 
'• So, I finish. Good-night; many thank." As 
we went down-stairs, I turned, and saw two 
Chinamen burning incense before the biggest 
and ugliest of the gods ; probably with the 
purpose of .purging the temple of the profana- 
tion of our presence there. 

The Turks, Arabs and other denizens of 



The Fairest of the Fair. 209 

Midway have caught up some of our slang 
phrases with avidity, and use them on slight 
provocation. " Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-aye " is the 
most often heard, from the most unlikely 
sources ; it has been selected as the name for 
one of the little donkeys in Cairo Street ; and 
it resounds from the bazars, restaurants and 
dance-houses. But there are other favorites. 
One day while I was haunting the Algerian 
bazar, admiring the fascinating contents of the 
booths, a woman took up a delicious short 
straight sword in a dark scabbard, which, 
together with the hilt, was encrusted with 
cowry-shells, producing a rich and savage 
effect ; the blade was finely engraved. 

"What does this cost?" she asked the 
Turkish salesman. 

"It is five dollar." 

" Five dollars," cried the woman, in tones 
of the wildest amazement. 

" Why, yes, that very cheap," said the Turk, 
quietly. 

"I saw one just like it in Cairo Street," 
returned the woman; "shall I tell you what 
they asked for it .^" 

"Certainment!" 



2IO The Fairest of the Fair. 

" Fifty cents." 

The Turk looked at her with a slowly gather- 
ing smile and said as he turned away, " Oh, 
what a difference in the morning !" 

Many of the visitors seem to have got the 
notion that most of the Oriental things for sale 
here are worthless ; and at any rate that the 
prices put on them are exorbitant. So they 
buy some common-place American trinket 
which they can understand and approximately 
gauge the value of; and they leave on the 
counter curiosities and works of art such as 
they will never again have an opportunity of 
even seeing, much less possessing ; and which 
would be cheap at any price. They may like 
them, and want them ; but the fear of being 
over-reached a few cents prevents them from 
purchasing them. 



XVI. 

There are two sorts of performances at the 
Algerian Theatre every day. The Nautch 
girls dance at intervals throughout the day and 
evening ; and the Tribe of Sidi Ben Aissa give 
their famous Torture Dance at half-past eight 
every night. Both performances may be seen 
the same evening on the same ticket ; but I 
saw each separately. For I happened to see 
the Torture Dance first and it made me feel 
that I must get out in the cool air, and take a 
long breath, and walk fast. 

The theatre is pretty and comfortable, seat- 
ing about twelve hundred people. The stage 
is large, decorated in the same style as that of 
the Cairo theatre, with hangings and lamps ; 
and there are three divans : two short ones for 
the musicians, at right angles to the footlights, 
at each end, and one long one at the back of 
the stage, extending its length. 

Before the Aissaous — as the tribe is called — 
begin their dance, they go in procession to 

21 I 



2 1 2 The Fairest of the Fair, 

their theatre, preceded by two big Nubians 
supporting banners, and followed by Algerian 
musicians, whose music is the wildest and 
shrillest in the Plaisance. 

The Aissaous are nine or ten in number, 
young Arabs, with their Sheik, a man of mid- 
dle age. They are clothed in white caftans, 
blue bordered, and reaching to the knee, with 
short wide sleeves and sashes about the waist. 
The Sheik wears a turban ; all the others are 
bare-headed. They carry drums like large 
tambourines without bells. 

The procession having arrived at the theatre, 
the banner bearers enter, but the Aissaous face 
about under the porch, and lifting their drums 
begin to play on them rapidly and strongly with 
their hands, at the same time chanting a wild, 
sonorous song. This done, they disappear 
within the doors. 

I waited for them to enter before going in 
myself. I took a seat near the front. Presently 
they filed on the stage and seated themselves 
on the long divan at the back. The Sheik sat 
in the centre, behind a little inlaid table sup- 
porting a brazier of brass, filled with live coals. 

The drumming and the deep chant began 



The Fairest of the Fair, 2 1 3 

again. It is a monotonous yet exciting music, 
and it made my blood run faster and my breath 
come hurriedly. 

Suddenly one of the Aissaous leaps to his 
feet, dropping his drum ; a Nubian woman who 
has accompanied the Arabs on the stage throws 
a handful of incense on the coals ; a cloud of 
smoke anses, and the Aissaou, clasping his 
hands behind him, swings his head back and 
forth over the brazier for a few moments, and 
then begins his dance. 

With his hands still clasped behind his back, 
or else with his arms swinging loosely at his 
sides — the muscles of neck and shoulders 
being "devitalized," as Delsarteans say, so 
that his head rolls round helplessly — he leaps 
about the stage, up and down, back and forth, 
as though he were made of India-rubber. Anon 
he gives a yell, or inhales more incense, and 
then goes on dancing. 

Meantime a man who seems to be a master 
of ceremonies, and who cultivates an unvary- 
ing smile of calm indifference, has been hand- 
ing round for inspection by the audience a 
large thick cactus leaf, covered with very 
sharp fine spines or needles ; also, half a 



214 '^^^^ Fairest of the Fair, 

dozen slender, sharp-pointed spikes of steel. 
I felt of them, and convinced myself there 
was no make-believe about them. 

The chanting ceased, but the heavy sound 
of the drums continued. The young Aissaou 
began walking restlessly back and forth, turn- 
ing his head this way and that, and making a 
hoarse, growhng sound. His eyes did not look 
like the eyes of a man, but had a fierce, long- 
ing expression, like a wolf's, and made me feel 
a restless dread. The Sheik came forward and 
took the cactus and the spikes from the man in 
front. The drumming had stopped, too. The 
dancer came at once towards the Sheik, his 
eyes fixed on the cactus, his body stretched 
forward, as if he were about to spring for it. 
But he passed one side, agam giving that 
curious, shuddering growl. 

At last he bounded up to the Sheik, and got 
down beside him on his hands and knees. 
The Sheik held the cactus towards him, and 
he bit into it eagerly, taking large mouthfuls 
of the thorny substances and chewing them as 
if famished. At times he would bite off so 
much that some of it would drop from the 
corners of his slavering lips ; he snatched at 



The Fairest of the Fair. 2 1 5 

them as they fell with savage snarls. He was 
not like a human being now, but like a raven- 
ous wolf or hyena snapping at its prey. The 
Sheik kept his eyes on him constantly, with a 
wary air, as he might have watched a wild 
beast, and restrained him with one hand while 
he fed him with the other. Once or twice he 
all but got his fingers bitten. 

All at once the Aissaou turned from the half- 
eaten cactus and caught up the steel spikes. 
These he thrust into various parts of his body 
with grunts of savage pleasure, as if it were 
his worst enemy he were torturing instead of 
himself; or perhaps the pain actually did give 
him delight. He ran the keen points into his 
legs and arms, through his eyelids, and through 
his tongue, and walked about with the things 
dangling and swinging from his flesh. As he 
passed near the brazier he caught up a red-hot 
coal and crammed it into his mouth, crunching 
it between his teeth. 

All at once the drumming and chanting were 
resumed. He jerked out the spikes ; the Sheik 
seized him by the elbows and spun him round ; 
he began to dance again. But it was for a few 
minutes only ; he reeled over to the Sheik (who 



2i6 The Fairest of the Fair. 

had resumed his place on the divan), kissed 
him on the turban, and threw himself behind 
him at full length. I thought that would be the 
end of him, but in a few minutes he was sitting 
up and thumping away at his drum with the 
others, as if nothing had happened. 

I, myself, was beginning to feel queer, how- 
ever. The music and the heavy incense seemed 
to sweep round me in bewildering clouds, 
through which I could discern nothing ex- 
cept what was being done on the stage, but 
of that I could lose not the slightest detail, I 
wished that I had not come there, yet I had no 
will to go away. I had been unconsciously 
twisting round my wrist a silk handkerchief, 
and trying to make it hurt ; but though I 
found next day that my wrist was badly lamed 
and swollen, I was not aware of any pain at 
the time. 

One after another the Aissaous sprang up 
and danced themselves into a frenzy, in which 
condition they did hideous and revolting things. 
One of them ate a live scorpion, slowly and 
lingeringly, with the relish of a cat playing with 
and devouring a mouse. Another chewed up 
and swallowed a glass tumbler, which had pre- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 2 1 7 

viously been broken into pieces on the stage. 
Another played with a serpent, biting it and 
allowing it to bite him. Others leaped with 
their bare feet on sword-blades of razor sharp- 
ness, stuck daggers in their bodies, and one 
ran a spike through his cheek from the inside 
so that the point projected from his face. On 
this point he hung a handkerchief, which he 
twitched twice or thrice. His big black eyes 
seemed to be staring beyond the audience at 
some thing of nameless horror, invisible to 
them, but the reflection of which they caught 
from him. 

The Sheik's performance was the last. After 
he had danced he thrust the sharp point of a 
spike into the corner of his right eye, which 
he forced out clear of the eyelid, keeping it so 
for a few terrible seconds. Then the spike 
dropped ; he rubbed his eye a bit, and it was 
all right once more. No blood, or sign of cut 
or wound, followed this or any of the tortures. 
As the Aissaous rose and trooped off the 
stage, the smiling Master of Ceremonies again 
came forward, and announced that the Nautch 
Girls would now give their renowned dances. 
But I got up and left the theatre. The night 



2i8 The Fairest of the Fair. 

was a lovely one ; the moon, nearly full, shone 
peacefully on the Plaisance and its moving 
crowds ; on the white-domed theatre, and on 
the gigantic Ferris Wheel, hanging motionless 
in the sky. 

But through the open door and windows of 
the theatre the heavy perfume of the incense 
still came stealing after me, as if to lure me 
back. It floated round me in the cool night 
air ; I shook myself free from it, and walked 
away beyond the reach of its spell. 

All the dancing girls in the Plaisance — ex- 
cept those of Java and Samoa — are called 
Nautch girls. But since the original Nautch 
girls are from India, and there happen to be 
no Indian dancers here, it seems as if the word 
must be misapplied. I discovered, however, 
that Nautch is simply the East Indian word for 
Dancer ; so if the meaning alone be regarded, 
it is right enough. It is curious, however, that 
none of the original Nautch Girls are at the 
World's Fair. 

The girls at the Algerian Theatre, whom I 
went to see another day, are of several varie- 
ties, so far as nationahty and costume are con- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 219 

cerned. There are two Bedouins, two or three 
Turks, one or two Circassians and a Nubian — 
the same motherly old creature who looks after 
the Aissaous, and whose black face is really 
handsome (in a Nubian way), with a sweet ex- 
pression on her broad features. Such as they 
are, they sit on the long divan of the Algerian 
Theatre and dance, in their several fashions, 
one after another, or sometimes two at once. 

The dances are all substantially the same ; 
they are all the Danse du Ventre, with minor 
additions or variations. One of the girls, while 
dancing, holds in her hand a little mirror, and 
goes through the motions of the toilet — pow- 
dering her pretty face, darkening her lashes 
with kohl, and glancing coquettishly from the 
glass to the audience ; all the while keeping up 
the undulations of the dance. Then she drops 
the mirror and proceeds to anoint the palms 
of her hands and her finger-tips with red henna, 
which is a universal decoration among these 
Oriental women, and looks very like blood. 
Some of the men use it also. The pretty 
dancer next arranges the rings on her fingers, 
and the bracelets on her arms, turning her 
hands and wrists about and contemplating 



220 The Fairest of the Fair. 

them with entire self-complacency. She wears 
ankle-bangles, too, but she does not arrange 
them ; they jingle as she treads. She is dressed 
in balloon-shaped trousers of rich colors, and a 
short embroidered vest. Her velvet and satin 
slippers turn up at the toes, and she wears 
crimson silk stockings. 

The two Bedouins dance differently from the 
rest, and from each other, too. One of them 
gives the sword dance ; she has two scimitars, 
and she whirls about, resting their points 
against her breast, against the pit of her 
stomach, and upon the lids of her eyes. The 
other wears a shimmering green dress — a sort 
of loose caftan, belted round the waist — and 
chains of gold sequins hanging from each side 
of her head-dress and passing beneath her 
chin ; this dark-eyed and dusky-skinned little 
creature has a complete command of the char- 
acteristic Nautch movements ; and also makes 
the strange, sidewise, snake-like movement of 
the head on the neck more strikingly than any 
other dancer I have seen. While the Bedouins 
are dancing, it is the Nubian musicians, on the 
right hand of the stage, who furnish the music, 
pounding on big drums, and shrilling on pipes. 



The Fairest of the Fair, 221 

Stringed instruments and hand-drums accom- 
pany the other dancers. 

Finally, out comes the old Nubian woman — 
who is not so old, after all, but who has a 
stout and solid aspect — and makes a salaam to 
the audience. She has a great deal of dignity, 
though she laughs good-naturedly, and is as 
jolly as one of our own Plantation darkies. 
Her dance is of the simplest description ; she 
hops up and down, and spins round a few 
times on her stocking feet, which are large and 
flat, and look all the larger because the stock- 
ings are white. Two male Nubians then ap- 
pear and dance, too, whirling about in a 
crouching attitude, bounding in the air, and 
keeping up a great clattering with enormous 
castanets. The only remaining musician — the 
two other men being now dancers — bangs on 
his drum with three-fold vigor, and yells in a 
frenzied manner, grinning to the full extent of 
his enormous jaws, and showing such a double 
row of snow-white teeth as were never before 
seen in this country, I am sure. This man has 
a strong sense of humor ; and can make such 
faces as Gustave Dore would have rejoiced to 
behold. 



XVII. 

The Nautch girls in the Persian Palace are 
the prettiest in the Plaisance, and the joUiest; 
some of them are very fair — as blonde as any 
Saxon. I suppose they must be Circassians ; 
but it is impossible to find out ; the only thing 
you can be quite sure of is, that none of them 
are Chicagoans, or Americans of any kind. 
They are beautiful in form, as well as face — 
slender and graceful ; and they are quite 
small ; the tallest is not over five feet three 
inches in height. 

Their costumes are lovely. They keep their 
arms and necks bare ; their short embroidered 
jackets are worn over silken underwaists ; the 
skirts are light and rather full. On their heads 
are little round caps, worn tipped on one side 
like British soldiers', while their long hair floats 
over their shoulders. While dancing they 
hold in their hands a silken scarf, or some- 
times two, which they wave gracefully ; and 
they move round the little stage with a light- 

222 



The Fairest of the Fair, 223 

some and elastic movement, swaying their wide 
hips from side to side, and undulating their 
slender waists. When the girls have danced, 
two youths, who have been thumping hand- 
drums, get up and do a sword-dance, swinging 
and stamping about vigorously, and with a 
grace, too, that is almost feminine. One of them 
exactly resembles the picture (in my edition of 
the Arabian Nights) of the Persian Prince, who 
flies away on a magic horse, the speed of 
which is regulated by turning a peg in his 
neck. 

Down-stairs, in a large room by themselves, 
are the Persian Wrestlers. 

The room is arranged like an old-fashioned 
cock-pit. The pit in the centre is about four- 
teen feet in diameter and three feet deep ; its 
bottom is clay. The spectators sit on chairs 
surrounding this in ranks raised one above the 
other. At one side is a space curtained off for 
the performers to dress and rest in ; just out- 
side this, with a brazier of live coals in front of 
him, sits the wrinkled little musician who plays 
a hand-drum all the time with such astonishing 
vigor that he seems to be working harder than 
any of the athletes^ and the perspiration pours 
J6 



224 The Fairest of the Fair, 

down his face and bare chest in unending 
streams. Once in awhile he stops a moment 
to throw upon the coals a handful of a sort of 
vegetable gum, which burns with a fragrant 
smoke, something like the incense that the 
Aissaous use. 

Over the drummer's head hang three bronze 
bells. He lifts his hand and strikes one of 
these a smart blow. Instantly the curtain parts 
and out step six men, naked from the loins up, 
and from the knees down. Their small-clothes, 
their only garment, are made of leather cov- 
ered with a fine pattern of red and blue em- 
broidery. Their black hair is shaved above 
the ears, so that it sets on the top of the head 
like a cap. 

One of these men is short, stout and old ; 
his hair is gray. Another is tall and thin, and 
his hair is reduced to a single top-knot. A 
third is small, and not remarkable in any way. 
But the other three men are models of physical 
strength and beauty. Their chests are deep, 
their shoulders wide, and their arms powerful; 
all down their backs are splendid masses of 
muscle, which swell out and subside as they 
move. They are very different from any of 



The Fairest of the Fair, 225 

our athletes ; they seem more supple and elas- 
tic, and their strength seems to come to them 
naturally, instead of being scientifically ac- 
quired. Their bodies are more like those of 
the antique Greek statues than are those of our 
white gymnasts. 

Their whole performance is peculiar, and, as 
the placard over the door says, unlike anything 
ever shown in this country. 

They begin by taking, each of them, a bit of 
wood three feet long and as many inches wide, 
to the under side of which are fastened two 
cleats about four inches high. They put these 
down on the clay floor of the pit, grasp them 
at either end with their hands, separate their 
legs almost at right angles, with only their toes 
touching the ground. Their heads, of course, 
are all towards the centre of the pit, and their 
bodies radiate outwards. 

They now begin to lower and raise them- 
selves by bending the arms, sometimes going 
straight up and down, as on the parallel bars, 
sometimes hurling their bodies more to the 
right or the left, striking their chests against 
the bar, and twisting their great shoulders till 
the rounded muscles seem to start through the 



226 The Fairest of the Fair, 

skin. One of them — the strongest and hand- 
somest — sometimes does this, supporting him- 
self on one hand only, the other being held 
behind his back. 

Again the drummer strikes his bell. 

The athletes rise, lay aside their bars, and 
each selects a pair of Indian Clubs from a row 
of them in front of the tent. I lifted one of 
these, and it seemed to weigh fifty pounds ; but 
I believe it really is not half so much. 

Standing in a circle round the pit, they 
swing these clubs round their heads, and then 
one after another steps into the centre and does 
some special act. One of the big ones throws 
the heaviest pair whirling high in the air, 
catching them neatly by the handles as they 
come down. Now and then he misses, how- 
ever, and once he came near dropping a club 
on the head of a certain quick little chap — 
perhaps the best all-round gymnast of them 
all — and startled him excessively. This little 
one is himself extraordinarily expert with a 
lighter pair of clubs, which he keeps whirling 
in the air all about him and over him, so that 
the eye can scarcely see him touch them, but 
they have always just been thrown. 



The Fairest of the Fair. 227 

The club act concluded, they dance together 
and separately, while the little drummer beats 
away on his drum with ever-growing energy 
and perspiration. It is not much of a dance — 
a sliding hop on one foot, then on the other, a 
waving of the arms, and now and then a spring 
in the air, turning completely round before 
coming down again. Then one of them takes 
a huge iron bow, with a heavy slack chain at- 
tached to it in place of a string, the whole 
weighing perhaps thirty pounds. He raises it 
above his head with both hands, and swings it 
forcibly to and fro. Meanwhile, the others 
withdraw from the ring ; and at the clang of 
the bell, the two who have been matched to 
wrestle with each other leap down into the pit 
and begin to circle round each other, watching 
for an opening. 

Suddenly one of them leaps in ; but the 
other was ready for him, and they break away 
again. This happens several times, until at 
last they get the hold they want, and the 
struggle is on. It is a stirring sight, if the two 
be well matched. They twine about each 
other, one hold slipping into another, the 
muscles of their backs and arms standing out 



228 The Fairest of the Fair. 

with the strain and again subsiding ; and soon 
they are glistening all over with sweat. They 
begin to pant and gasp ; there are short, in- 
tense pauses of effort ; fierce, quick turnings 
and clutchings, and another motionless mo- 
ment of strain. At last, by a herculean heave, 
or a sudden, clever twist, one gets the better of 
the tussle and lays his adversary on his back. 
Then they rise, touch their foreheads together, 
and retire behind the curtain to rest. 

Here follows an act, generally performed by 
the stout, elderly man. The curtains of the tent 
are drawn aside, and he is discovered lying on 
his back within, holding in his hand what can 
only be described as a pair of massive wooden 
doors. They are oblong frameworks of solid 
oak, about four feet long by three feet wide, 
and weighing some forty pounds each. In the 
centre of each is a square aperture six inches 
across, with an iron bar through it, which 
serves as a handle to hold the thing by. Of 
course, they are very awkward things to 
handle, not only on account of their weight, as 
because they so easily fall out of balance. 

Nevertheless, the old man, lying on his back, 
keeps putting up his doors, at the same time 



The Fairest of the Fair. 'I'lg 

hitching himself along the floor in the direc- 
tion of the pit. Meanwhile, one of his fellows 
(the little drummer takes a well-earned rest as 
soon as the wrestling begins) addresses him in 
a sort of sing-song monologue, which I should 
think would be to the last degree exasperating ; 
but I suppose it must encourage the old man 
somehow. After a long time of wriggling and 
hitching, he at last gets his legs over the sides 
of the pit, drops into it, stands erect, and whirls 
round and round, using the doors to add to his 
impetus. As he slows down, his companion 
steps up and steadies him, and takes away the 
doors, and the performance, so far as the Per- 
sians are concerned, is over. 

But at one time the Persians were followed 
by one of the make-believe European Sam- 
sons or Strong Men. His business was snap- 
ping chains, bending bars, and talking — and 
in the latter way, if in no other, he certainly 
earned his salary. " Ladees and gent'men," 
he says, in a high, metallic voice, "you have 
heard dat Clumbus, he discover America; 
well, I discover strenk ! My strenk is more 
dan any sixteen strongest men in dis audi- 
ence. I have here a wiah rope, dat hold up 



230 The Fairest of the Fair. 

about fifteen or t'irty thousand pound ; I give 
one honderd dollars if any sixteen strongest 
men in dis audience break it ; I iust snap dat 
chain by the expansion of my chist. I will now 
show you how I bend dis iyon bar. Dis bar, 
ladees and gent'men, is iyon bar ; I give one 
honderd dollars to any men in dis audience 
dat can bend dis bar ; I bend dis bar iust by 
striking it on de muscle of my arm. My fad- 
der," he continues, " was a Russian ; my mud- 
der, she was a Persian ; so I am half Persian. 
Now, ladees and gent'men, dis concludes the 
performance ; but, as de audience passes out, 
any ladee or gent'man may feel of my iyon 
muscle free of expense. You see, I do not 
make my muscle be hard ; it is hard all de 
time." 

The whole affair is the most transparent 
humbug. The iron bar is a piece of lead 
piping ; the chains are furnished with a leaden 
link, which comes apart with the slightest pres- 
sure ; and the steel rope is all but filed in two 
near one end. The man himself may be a 
Russian ; he was so described in the ten-cent 
show on the Avenue outside the grounds, where 
he performed before coming here ; but he is so 



The Fairest of the Fair. 2 3 1 

little of a Persian (though he furnished himself 
with a conical Persian cap of Astrachan) that 
he is obliged to communicate with the real 
Persians by signs. The latter, who are as in- 
nocent as children, at first supposed him to be 
the genuine marvel that he claimed to be ; but 
after awhile they found him out, and then it 
was funny to see their ill-concealed contempt 
for him. But he is the only "fake" that I 
have seen in the whole Fair, and is, therefore, 
quite as much of a curiosity as anything else. 
One of his most absurd acts is to fit a small 
chain over the biceps of his right arm, and 
then say, "Now, I show you how I make all 
my strenk go into my one arm out of my body ; 
you watch how I do." He holds out his arm 
and works the muscle up and down for a min- 
ute or two ; then he suddenly contracts it, and 
the chain — I cannot say snaps, but — comes 
apart, leaving not even a red mark on the skin. 
"You see, I break dat chain across my iyon 
muscle ; I am de strongest man in de woild ; 
you have heard of me before : I am stronger 
dan any sixteen men ; Clumbus, he discover 
America ; but I — I discover strenk ! " 



xviii. 

In the Plaisance, as in the geographies, 
Turkey is not far from Persia ; and I cross 
over from the latter to the former. On the 
western extremity of the village stands the 
white mosque with its arched doorway, through 
which is visible the handsome interior. This 
mosque is a reproduction of that of the Sultan 
Selin. The floor is covered with white matting, 
over which are strewn fine prayer-rugs ; the 
shrine is to the east, beautifully decorated with 
rich Eastern ornament ; pierced and chased 
lamps of brass hang from the ceiling ; recep- 
tacles of glass half filled with water, on which 
floats sweet oil and a burning wick. These 
lamps give a soft, steady light. 

As I leaned against the raihng in front of 
the entrance steps, where two or three Turks 
are always on the watch to prevent infidels 
from entering, a woman and her escort came 
up behind me. Within, before the shrine, a 
Moslem was even then prostrated, worshipping 

232 



The Fairest of the Fair, 233 

Allah after his own fashion. The woman 
looked at him a moment, and then burst into a 
laugh. 

" Why, do look at that horrid creature !'* she 
exclaimed, in a most penetrating voice; "he 
acts like he really thought his heathen prayers 
would do him any good ! How funny he does 
look. Look at him — he seems to mean it, 
don't he!" 

I withdrew hastily, fervently hoping that 
none of the Turks within ear-shot understood 
English. If they did, they must have formed 
curious ideas of Christianity and American 
breeding. 

To the left of the mosque is a building at 
the door of which an American whooper-in 
implores you not to miss the chance of a life- 
time to see the Original Persian War Tent, be- 
longing to the Shah of Persia, Four Hun- 
dr-r-r-red year-r-rs old, and completely cov- 
ered with embroideries of gold and silver. 
"Also, the solid silver Bedstead — " — another 
flood of description — " and the Harem of a 
Turkish Bey." 

This Harem, after you have paid your 
twenty-five cents to see it, is discovered to be 



234 ^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 

nothing more than the empty receptacle, which 
may once have contained the human part of 
the Harem, namely, four rugs hung up on the 
sides of a square. There appears to be an 
ambiguity about the word " Harem;" like our 
"church," it may mean the people or it may 
mean the place. 

Near the whooper-in stands a wonderful ob- 
ject. It is a man, short, stout and brawny ; he 
is called the " Great Zeibeck ;" but to my com- 
panion and myself he was known privately as 
•* The Walking Arsenal." On the background, 
or groundwork, of a costume somewhat resem- 
bling the Highland dress — though baggy white 
trousers take the place of the graceful kilt — 
bristles an array of knives, swords and pistols 
enough to furnish forth a whole company of or- 
dinary warriors. The handles and hilts stick 
out of him everywhere, peep over his shoulders, 
and emerge from under his short jacket. This 
man was a mighty fighter in the late Russo- 
Turkish war, and wears medals on his breast. 
But now, his proper occupation being gone, he 
poses here at the door of a twenty-five-cent 
show, in his old war-trappings, with his bare 
fat knees, upholding, with perspiring dignity, 
all those instruments of death. 



The Fairest of the Fair. 235 

It never occurred to me that any creature 
merely human could more than once — and 
then by some lucky chance only — have piled 
upon himself so preposterous an arsenal. One 
evening, however, it happened to me to surprise 
him in ordinary European attire. The meta- 
morphosis, by some wicked fairy, of a gallant 
prince into a burrowing mole was nothing be- 
side this transformation, which the Great Zei- 
beck had himself wrought. He was human 
after all, and comfort, scorned of devils, was 
evidently not displeasing to him. 

The Turkish Bazar is a long, one-storied 
building, with a broad aisle running its length, 
and a short one crossing it in the centre. It is 
decorated with rugs and silks and carved wood 
panels ; the continuous rows of booths are filled 
with all manner of lovely things — shawls, 
yards of marvelous embroidery on silk and 
gauze, fezes, plain and worked with gold, some 
having tassels two feet long; pipes, nargiles; 
in one booth sausages and home-made pies of 
American aspect can be had ; cigarettes, man- 
ufactured while you wait by four or five Turkish 
men and girls, who sit all day long rolling 
them and putting them in red, white and yellow 



236 The Fairest of the Fair. 

boxes. One of these girls was pretty, and her 
appeals to " come buy nice Turkish cigarette " 
were most winning. She could speak English 
pretty well, and told me that before her arrival 
here three months before she knew not a word. 
In the centre space, where the aisles inter- 
sect, stands a funny little fire engine. It is 
graceful in shape and decoration, as all things 
Oriental are. It consists of a small square box 
supported on two long poles, the ends of which 
emerging serve as handles to carry it by. 
When an alarm of fire is sounded four Turks, 
and as many others as circumstances will 
admit, seize these handles and are off on a 
gallop, surrounded and followed by a crowd all 
yelling at the top of their lungs. They are 
always ambitious to put out some fire w^ith their 
comical little apparatus ; but run and yell as 
they would, the American firemen always hap- 
pened to have got there and extinguished it 
before their arrival. One day, however, they 
did succeed in reaching Old Vienna in time, 
and they squirted their tiny stream of water 
with great promptness and intrepidity. The 
fire was restricted to one small booth, but the 
Turks extinguished everything in the neighbor- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 237 

hood, including all the spectators and half a 
dozen unoffending shops. It was a glorious 
day for the Sublime Porte. 

Behind the bazar is a row of plain houses in 
which the salesmen dwell. They are flat-roofed, 
with small windows protected by carved wood 
casements. In the narrow doorways lounge 
sedan-chair bearers off duty ; and once in a 
while a dancing-girl from the theatre in shining 
silk and heavy ankle-bangles, with a shawl 
over her head, slips in. The women here sel- 
dom wear the yashmak ; their faces are uncov- 
ered. 

One day while I loitered in the bazar admir- 
ing the beautiful things for the twentieth time, 
a young Turk rushed up to the counter where 
I had just been standing. Snatching up a 
small inlaid box, he addressed the girl behind 
the counter in a shrill, feminine voice: "Oh, 
ain't this real elegant ? Mama, do come here ! 
Look at that ; ain't it just too sweet for any- 
thing ? Say, how much is this ? One dollar ? 
No, thanks ! not to-day ; but airi t it elegant, 
mama ? Some other time, thanks !" 

After this take-off, with a side glance to see 
whether I had appreciated it, he sauntered 



238 The Fairest of the Fair. 

away. He ought to have been an actor in the 
neighboring theatre, for it was an admirable 
little performance ; voice, expression and words 
were all the image of the reality, which was 
very common in the bazar and elsewhere. 

Adjoining the Harem and Silver-Bed exhibit 
is a large room in which rugs are shown. 
There are hundreds if not thousands of them, 
of all varieties and degrees of beauty. They 
are rolled up in bales, they hang from frames, 
they are spread out on the floor ; such colors 
and patterns only Oriental looms can create. 
Some are of immense size ; others so small that 
they might serve to cover a tea-table ; but these 
are the silken prayer-rugs, and are more ex- 
pensive than any ; one, about four feet long, 
was valued at six thousand dollars. Possibly 
its sanctity — for it was an ancient as well as a 
beautiful piece of work — may have added to 
the price. Who knows what prayers may have 
gone heavenward from it ! 

At the head of the room hangs an oil paint- 
ing by an artist called O. Hamdy Bey. It 
represents the door of the Muradieh mosque, 
in Broussa — a superb subject, well rendered ; 
the color is brilHant and warm, and the compo- 
sition is effective, 



The Fairest of the Fair. 239 

When I got tired of standing about the 
bazars, I went into the theatre and sat down. 

The play given here contains a love-story 
and some exciting adventures, followed by 
a number of dances. 

Kamina, daughter of the rich Arab Fayyad, 
is sought in marriage by her cousin Hassan ; 
but Fayyad will not hear of it. A sudden flood 
of disasters, however, overwhelms the stern 
father, and Hassan is instrumental in rescuing 
him from them ; in gratitude for which the 
marriage is permitted. It is not a strikingly 
original plot, perhaps ; but the manner of its 
presentation is unlike anything ever seen on 
our stage. 

A group of Kurds are eating Zalahbia and 
drinking out of gourds. One of them is spin- 
ning with a small machine which he operates 
with his hands. Another weaves a stocking ; 
each has some occupation. They begin to 
sing, and three of the younger ones link arms 
and skip slowly across the stage and back 
again. Suddenly, in bursts Hassan as the 
rejected lover, relating his woes. After much 
violent speech and gesticulation, they all gather 
up their belongings and exeunt. 

17 • 



240 The Fairest of the Fair. 

In a tent, with rugs and muskets, sits Fayyad 
in a long robe, sash and turban, with a volumi- 
nous beard. Before him as he squats cross- 
legged, stand Zahra and Kamina, his wife and 
daughter, in Turkish trousers and bodices, and 
the short Oriental jacket. Fayyad berates 
them soundly, and at length starts to his feet 
and makes a dive at Kamina ; but Zahra inter- 
poses and tries to soothe him. 

Wild shouts are heard, and in rush a throng 
of Bedouin robbers waving swords and daggers. 
They strip Fayyad to his shirt, even taking his 
turban ; and rush yelling out, carrying with 
them the entire contents of the tent, including 
Zahra and Kamina. Fayyad tears his beard, 
remonstrates, and attempts to resist ; but the 
robbers threaten him with their scimitars, and 
he sinks despairing to the ground. 

To Fayyad, thus crumpled up, enter Hassan ; 
there is more wild talk and gesticulation ; Has- 
san will rescue the women and bring the thieves 
to justice ; off he goes to collect his friends. He 
comes back with them in a couple of seconds ; 
Fayyad points the way the robbers went, and 
the others are off with yells in pursuit. 

A few old men and women, Job's comforters, 



The Fairest of the Fair, 241 

come to sit and condole with Fayyad ; they 
groan and rock for a minute or two, when back 
comes victorious Hassan with the women, the 
rest of the stolen property and the robbers, 
their hands bound. Fayyad loses no time in 
resuming his garments, fetching the thieves 
hearty whacks as he does so, especially the one 
who has on his turban. 

All is now rejoicing ; Hassan and Kamina 
are betrothed, the three young Kurds skip up 
and down the stage once more, and then the 
entire company — except the robbers, who have 
gone out to be strangled — sit in a row and 
watch the dances. 

An Albanian, with a very full white skirt, 
dances with an Albanian girl, whirling about, 
striking attitudes, advancing and retreating. 
Then a pretty girl called Rosa, dances the 
Turkish or Constantinople dance — the regular 
Danse du Ventre. Another girl, tall, straight 
and slender, comes on, and — keeping the upper 
part of her body motionless — rotates her hips 
as if they belonged to a separate organism. 
Finally, Rosa reappears, and the performance 
ends with her revolving, after the manner of 
the Dancing Dervishes, for full ten minutes, 



242 The Fairest of the Fair. 

spinning round faster and faster towards the 
end, and bowing at the conclusion with no 
signs of either fatigue or dizziness. 

As the curtain goes down, a Turk walks up 
the middle aisle, calling out that whoever came 
in after the play began may remain and see 
the whole thing over again. As I walk out, I 
pass the Clergyman, who is just finishing his 
** little speech," and adding that the perform- 
ance is now about to begin. 



XIX. 

The Bedouin Camp is next door to the 
Turkish Theatre ; the woman who takes my 
ticket r^t the entrance is clad in a flowing 
black robe, and a head-dress that conceals 
her mouth, but not her flashing eyes, which 
are blacker than her dress. 

Upon entering I find myself in an open 
court, on the right of which are two Bedouin 
tents, and on the left is a small building con- 
taining the Damascus Room. 

To the left of the tents are the remains of a 
fire, a huge bronze bowl, and a small moun- 
tain of coffee-grounds. Muskets stand at the 
door, and a few hand-drums and some pipes. 
In one of the tents sit a couple of Arabs in 
burnouses, gravely smoking ; in the other tent 
an old woman is making Bedouin bread. Over 
the brightly burning fire is what looks like an in- 
verted iron bowl, on which the woman spreads a 
thin layer of dough with her hands, and almost 
instantly peels it off again, crisp and appetizing. 

243 



244 1^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 

Other women and men sit outside the tents, 
playing on drums and singing. Three or four 
girls walk round in time to the music, and once 
in awhile clap their hands and sway from side 
to side. One of these girls is a little beauty. 
She cannot be over twelve ; her eyes are large 
and dark, and her black hair waves over her 
shoulders. Her arms and feet are bare, her 
only dress being a straight, simple robe, fast- 
ened round her waist with a sash. Necklaces 
and armlets sparkle on her dark skin, and 
jingle to her movements. Pretty and wild, 
with the straight features of the Arab, and 
lithe, untamed gestures, she is not the least 
interesting sight on Midway. 

Very different from all this is the Room of 
the Damascus Palace on the other side of the 
court. Its length is more than twice its 
breadth ; the ends of the room are raised a 
foot or so above the central part, in which is 
a fountain basin. The southern division is 
fitted with a divan running along the walls ; 
It is low and wide and covered with silken 
cushions ; a thick rug lies on the floor. The 
walls of the entire apartment are hung with 
embroideries and tapestries, wonderful in the 



The Fairest of the Fair. 245 

rich softness of their hues. Above these hang- 
ings is a frieze of Meshrebie work, and the 
lofty ceihng is draped with stuffs. The win- 
dows are high up, between the frieze and the 
ceiling ; they are crossed with metal bars, and 
translucent curtains of fine wool admit a sub- 
dued, mellow light. Against the tapestries are 
suspended fine shirts of chain mail, helmets, 
Damascus swords and spears ; lamps of brass 
and bronze hang from the ceiling Three or 
four graceful vases stand about, and there are 
a few low seats in addition to the divans. 

A soft-voiced young Damascan explains 
things to the visitors, telling us just what we 
want to know, and then answering questions. 
He keeps repeating "in my country," with a 
delicious inflection of gentle pride. He asks 
the visitors to sit on the divan, and it is de- 
lightful to recline on the soft cushions and 
think of Haroun Al Raschid, and the One- 
Eyed Calender, and Ali Baba ; and to hold 
between your fingers the slender twisted tube 
of a nargileh — there are half a dozen of them 
standing about — and listen to the story of 
Damascus, and contemplate the rich, softly- 
lighted space, with the fountain in the midst, 



246 The Fairest of the Fair. 

and to fancy yourself living in the golden 
prime of the great Oriental monarch. 

From Damascus I went to the cafe Chantant 
in Constantinople. The severe young Moslem 
in the purple robe was just announcing the 
commencement of the performance. The jovial 
Albanian was not at the moment on duty, to 
cheer on hesitating souls with his hearty voice 
and enthusiastic hand-clapping. Up I go, 
nevertheless, and take a seat near the stage, 
where a Turk brings me a cup of sweet, un- 
strained Turkish coffee. I have learned to be 
very fond of this coffee smce I first came to 
the Plaisance. 

The stage is empty ; but by and by the musi- 
cians come in and climb up on the stage, and 
sit down cross-legged on the divan, and get to 
work with their hand-drums, and pipes, and 
tambourines ; and now, one after the other, the 
dancing-girls follow. 

They are dressed in different ways. Some 
have on balloon-like trousers and embroidered 
vests ; some wear long woolen robes of a red- 
dish-brown color, girdled around the waist. 
One of them — a Jewess by her features — is a 
very beautiful, but melancholy-looking, young 



The Fairest of the Fair. 247 

woman ; she is the Prima Donna Assoluta, as 
we should say — an excellent dancer and a good 
singer (in the Turkish style). She takes her 
place between the divans, in a handsome 
carved and inlaid chair ; she slips her little feet 
out of the curious inlaid wooden sandals or 
pattens (with supports six inches high) and 
rests them on a foot-rest, resembling a small 
folding clothes-horse, made of the same dark 
wood as the chair and similarly ornamented. 

Nobody is in the least in a hurry ; there is a 
languorous, unceremonious atmosphere over 
everything. The Jewess takes up a drum and 
begins dreamily to thrum upon it ; the other 
girls, follow her example, using either drums or 
tambourines ; but the pipes and flutes are played 
only by the men. They all sing the chanting, 
endless song, that sounds so strange in Western 
ears until we get used to it, and then nothing 
pleases us more. Meanwhile, they carry on a 
desultory conversation with one another, and 
sometimes smile at an acquaintance in the 
audience. They are like a big lazy family, 
with nothing in the world to do except sing, 
dance, play and amuse themselves and us. 

The stage is small, decorated, much in the 



248 The Fairest of the Fair. 

style of all the other Oriental theatres, with 
rugs and draperies, on which are fixed cross- 
wise Turkish pipes with enormously long stems, 
and scimitars and poniards. A couple of the 
pretty carved and inlaid tables stand at the 
ends of the platform ; and between the dances 
the attendant comes and places on these a 
glass of sherbet for the girls to sip. 

One of the girls, perhaps sixteen years old, 
is very graceful and pretty, with a lithe, slender 
figure, and thick, curly, brown hair, tumbling 
about her face and escaping down her shoul- 
ders. Her eyes are large, brown and softly 
bright ; her movements of wrist and fingers in 
playing the hand-drum are delicious, and she 
throws back her head and sings with all her 
heart and soul. 

The dancing here has its differences from 
that in the other places, though the principle is 
the same. The dancers make their breasts 
move and undulate, and the young girl I have 
mentioned gives the snake motion of the head, 
smiUng with sparkling eyes. After the undu- 
lating movement they spring sideways, holding 
their hands before their faces, with the fingers 
intertwined, and snapping them with a peculiar 



The Fairest of the Fair, 249 

soft sound ; they also use the castanets. The 
Jewess, in her dance, sometimes kneels down, 
and bends forwards, moving her shoulders 
back and forth ; then she bends far backwards, 
with outstretched arms, clapping the castanets. 
She is a beautiful dancer; but through it all 
she maintains her grave, ennuied air, and 
barely smiles sometimes when the applause is 
very enthusiastic. 

Suddenly in rushes the Albanian. He springs 
up on the stage, snatches a tambourine from 
one of the girls, and begins to play upon it with 
a great flourish. The Jewess is dancing; he 
contemplates her with his head on one side, as 
much as to say. Isn't she ineffable ! — and, as 
she bends backwards, he reaches over her and 
shakes the tambourine above her head, laugh- 
ing. Now she bends forward again, moving 
her shoulders and bosom ; and then springs to 
her feet, while the Albanian gives an encour- 
aging shout, and strikes up a livelier air. 

Two minutes after he has come in all the 
girls are smiling, and the male musicians are 
grinning from ear to ear — all but the Jewess, 
who maintains her bored and weary expression, 
as though all this seemed to her a foolish and 
idle dream. 



250 The Fairest of the Fair, 

As the dancing goes on, the Albanian turns 
and appeals to the audience : " Ecc utiful danc- 
ing 1 Nice young ladies — fine — fine young 
ladies!" and applauds with contagious enthu- 
siasm. 

In the midst of the performance one of the 
girls came in, leading by the hand a wild-look- 
ing old man, whom she placed on a chair close 
to the stage and left there. He had flowing 
gray hair and a long gray beard ; bushy eye- 
brows overhung his beady eyes ; his body was 
thin and bent and clad in a suit of rusty black. 
He kept on his head the wide-brimmed hat 
which he had on when he entered ; and grasp- 
ing his cane with both bony hands, he leaned 
his sharp chin on them and glared at the danc- 
ing without moving until the entire perform- 
ance was over. Then he arose and shuffled 
out, leaving untasted the glass of sherbet which 
the attendant had put on the table beside him. 
He looked like the grandfather of Anarchy. 

Another man, of fashionable and debonair 
aspect, had come in escorting two ladies. He 
asked the Turk in waiting some question about 
the Jewess. The Turk answered (the conver- 
sation was carried on in French) that the 



The Fairest of the Fair. 251 

Jewess spoke no language but Turkish. He 
beckoned to her, however, and she got up from 
her little throne and came down to the foot- 
hghts. 

The gentleman and the two ladies also went 
forward, and they examined the jewelry which 
she wore in great profusion. She, with her in- 
different expression, held out first one arm and 
then the other, that they might see and touch 
the heavy golden bracelets ; she held out her 
foot while they admired the bangles on her 
ankles, and bent forward that they might scru- 
tinize the jewelled chains that hung over her 
bosom. The gentleman asked her many ques- 
tions through the Turk, who acted as inter- 
preter, such as where the jewelry was made, 
where the Jewess came from, and whether she 
had ever before danced out of Turkey. After 
they had investigated her to their satisfaction, 
the gentleman expressed his acknowledgments, 
and said to the Turk : " Dites lui qu'elle est 
tres belle, et que la danse est bien gentille." 
The Turk translated this to the indifferent 
beauty, and, for the first time, she smiled. 



XX. 

The Java Village, like Rome, was not built 
in a day. For a good many weeks I used to 
watch the little Javanese working leisurely at 
their dainty bamboo huts and on their big 
theatre (also of bamboo, thatched with palm- 
leaves). They lounged about, dressed in neat 
jackets and straight skirts, called sarongs, and 
with a big handkerchief, knotted at the corners, 
over their short, straight, black hair. They 
would work only when the weather was warm, 
and they were not in a hurry. 

At last, one day, the doors in the high, 
arched gate-way of bamboo were opened, and 
I went in. The place was crowded all that day, 
and during all the days following. For every- 
body was as anxious as I was to see how this 
gentle-mannered community of little men and 
women lived, ate and worked. 

In the middle of the Village was the tea- 
house, with a broad veranda round it, thickly 
set with chairs and tables and eager customers, 

252 



The Fairest of the Fair. 253 

while Javanese attendants in scarlet jackets 
went in and out, and a little boy hastened 
about distributing pretty cups and saucers and 
long-nosed tea-kettles. There were some 
American girls to help wait on the tables, 
and to interpret between the customers and 
the Javanese. This tea-house — like all the 
buildings in the Village — is made of split bam- 
boo mats stretched on bamboo posts ; the rail- 
ing enclosing the veranda was constructed of 
short pieces of bamboo arranged in pretty, 
open-work patterns ; and the edifice was 
thatched with very dark palm-leaves. 

Near the tea-house is a big cage, the abode 
of an ourang-outang, large and ugly, who 
crawled about in it, and swung himself with 
preternatural solemnity and precision from bar 
to bar. South of this is a little pond, into 
which a stream of water falls, causing a crank 
to revolve ; the arms of two little wooden 
figures are attached to the crank, so that it 
seems as they were turning it. This is but one 
of many ways in which the playful humor of 
the Javanese shows itself 

The huts in which the people dwell are 
ranged all round the large enclosure. Each 



254 



The Fairest of the Fair, 



has a veranda in front, on which they sit, work- 
ing, idling or smoking their queer cigarettes, 
made of the dark, perfumed Java tobacco 
rolled in the leaf of the sugar-palm. These 
cigarettes are long and slender, tapering to 
one end. The chief makers of them are two 
girls and a man in a hut on the 
north side, where they may be 

watched 
rolling 
them in 
their 
slender 
li n g e r s, 
and tying 
the end 
with a bit of 
fine thread. 
Among the 
special curi- 
osities are a boat, long, and high in the bows, 
standing beneath a thatched shed ; and a two- 
wheeled wagon, too small for anything: but a 
Shetland pony, and as light as thistle-down. 
On the veranda of one of the huts a man 
carves paper cutters out of wood, fashioning 




The Fairest of the Fair, 255 

the handles into the semblance of queer little 
figures, and painting them. Another man and 
his wife make the wide, round hats of fine 
strips of white or colored bamboo, which some 
of the natives wear. Elsewhere little cross- 
legged women embroider exquisitely on silk, 
or dye cotton cloth in bowls filled with hquid 
tints. 

The manufacture of their various ornaments 
and utensils — the terms are almost interchange- 
able in this case — does not interrupt the course 
of their family life, which goes on as simply 
and as free from self-consciousness as if no 
foreign, staring crowd were within a thousand 
miles of them. The master of the house 
squats on his mat, smoking peacefully, and 
restraining his tiny babies from tumbling off 
the veranda (on the steps of which stand two 
or three pairs of sandals) — or from eating 
chips of bamboo. One of the visitors hands 
the little girl baby a banana. The father 
smiles a thank-you and peels it for the baby, 
who squats to munch, looking at the crowd with 
wide, grave eyes. One or two women — I 
noticed that there were often two or three pairs 
of women's sandals on the steps of the huts, 
16 



256 The Fairest of the Fair, 

besides the one male pair ; and since these 
people are Mohammedans, perhaps they have 
more wives than one — one or two women, 
their small, regular teeth sometimes blackened 
like the men's, and generally filed too, go in 
and out, arrange the children's single little 
slips (all they wear), laugh and joke with their 
husband, straighten the bamboo mats, and 
carry on all their domestic duties in the most 
charmingly unconstrained manner. 

They are quite ready, too, to be sociable 
with visitors when the latter gather in front of 
their family groups and show a desire to enter 
into conversation. A young and pretty woman 
with a clear brown complexion, long, narrow, 
dark eyes, a sweet mouth and the funniest flat 
nose, and a gracefully-rounded figure, which 
seems too small for anything but a fairy, goes 
into delicious little fits of laughter over the 
efforts of an elderly American to repeat after 
her some Javanese words. She points to her 
chin, and the American says " chin — English," 
and she laughs and says " chin ?" with a soft 
accent, " lava," and then follows some strange 
word. A Javanese sitting near her, in the red 
jacket worn by the musicians in the theatre. 



The Fairest of the Fair, i^^j 

looks on with a doubtful air, as if he were not 
satisfied that it was quite coimne il faict for her 
to be so famiUar with a barbarian, and he mut- 
ters something to her in Malay. But just then 
— teeth being the word under discussion — the 
American unexpectedly removes his upper row, 
to the little woman's speechless astonishment. 
'* False teeth," says he, amidst roars of laugh- 
ter ; "don't have 'em in Java?" ** No, no !" 
replies she, shaking her head most emphatic- 
ally. And she follows the man's retreating 
figure with bewildered eyes as long as it is in 
sight. 

South of the theatre is a long booth, with a 
counter heaped with bamboo mats, filigree 
work, wrought brass, Malay creeses and spears, 
the cart-wheel hats, the sarongs, silk sashes 
richly embroidered with gold, such as the 
dancing-girls wear ; musical instruments mar- 
velous in form and sweetly plaintive in sound. 
As for those queer cigarettes, they can be 
bought from any of the Javanese — male or 
female. They all carry a handful of them in 
their breast pockets. Java coffee, tea and spices 
are also for sale. Everything is cheap as well 
as fascinating, and it is hard to get away. 



258 The Fairest of the Fair, 

Perhaps the most singular performance to be 
seen in all Midway is the one given in the 
Bamboo Theatre. I was fortunate enough to 
get a seat near the stage, where my view^ was 
unimpeded by bonnets and shoulders. The 
stage was large ; at the back was a series of 
broad steps, on which the red-jacketed orches- 
tra of twenty-four performers is seated. The 
musical instruments resemble short, fat boats 
painted blue, but are really a kind of gigantic 
harmonicons, played on with padded hammers. 
There are also gongs and cymbals, and a few 
bells and stringed instruments. The music 
generated from these materials is most sweet 
and harmonious. 

At the foot of the orchestral acclivity is a 
semi-transparent screen, with a low seat behind 
it for the man who does all the actors' talking 
for them. The actors wear masks, which arc 
said to be kept in place by a piece of leather 
attached to the inside of the mask and held 
between their teeth, naturally preventing them 
from using their tongues. 

On either side of the stage is a rack contain- 
ing dozens of marionettes with faces weirdly 
hideous, painted blue and red. I don't know 



The Fairest of the Fair, 259 

what they are for ; no one on the stage pays 
the shghtest attention to them. 

The members of the orchestra come on and 
take their places one after the other ; each one 
before chmbing to his place shps off his san- 
dals. At length all are seated, and after play- 
ing an overture the curtains hanging before 
two entrances at either wing are parted, and out 
come five women, looking even smaller if pos- 
sible than when going about out of doors. 
They do not wear masks. Their dresses are 
gorgeous with mingled colors ; the materials 
are rich, and the adornment lavish. About 
their waists dangle the embroidered ends of 
several sashes ; they wear white stockings, but 
no shoes. They come on slowly in single file, 
pausing at each step to settle gradually into a 
quaint but graceful pose, one arm extended in 
front and the other behind, their flexible little 
elbows so straightened that they bend the 
wrong way, and their slender hands spread 
out. Every few moments, by a quick jerk of 
the wrist, they toss the hanging end of a sash 
over the forearm. In this manner they wind 
across the stage in a row with infinite precision, 
holding each pose for a moment or two, and 



26o The Fairest of the Fair. 

then sliding into another. At last they make 
their exit by the opposite entrance, each turn- 
ing to bow before disappearing. 

Next enters a strange and wondrous creature ; 
he is a Javanese, though it is hard to realize it. 
He is clothed in briUiant plush small-clothes, 
white stockings without shoes like the women, 
and like them with half a dozen sashes dang- 
ling from his girdle. 

Like them, too, he wears a sort of helmet on 
his head ; but his face is concealed by a gro- 
tesque and fierce-looking mask, which seems a 
little too small for him, and which has narrow, 
pointed features, adorned with a bristling 
moustache. 

He crosses the stage with exaggerated strides, 
stopping at every other step to turn his head this 
way and that, and to spread his legs as far apart 
as possible ; while he keeps his arms akimbo and 
now and then tosses a sash over his wrist. At 
length he reaches a seat in the middle of the 
stage ; and after exam.ining it suspiciously, he 
sits down upon it. 

Another masked phenomenon follows him, 
in precisely the same manner ; when he comes 
in front of the first, the latter springs up, and 



The Fairest of the Fair. 261 

the two sidle about each other, while the man 
behind the screen carries on their conversation. 
Finally they shake hands and sit down, their 
heads on one side, their hands on their hips, 
and their legs at an angle of 180 degrees. 

Three or four more now enter with the same 
grotesque formalities. Then comes a person- 
age somewhat different from the others, with an 
evil grin on his mask ; he seems to inspire the 
others with apprehension. After some minutes 
of fantastic posing, and advance and retreat, 
he is attacked by them ; but he offers no resist- 
ance, and it appears that he is invulnerable. 
Then he strikes his antagonist on the hip, and 
the latter makes his exit in an apparently 
moribund condition, though not omitting to 
make a parting obeisance to the audience. 
The Evil Grinner, being left in possession of 
the field, -seats himself on the central seat or 
throne to enjoy his triumph. Others enter, 
and he is again attacked, but is once more 
victorious ; and at length he too makes his 
exit. 

Now appear six girls, the loveliest things 
imaginable. Their dresses reach from the 
centre of the bosom to just below the knee; 



262 The Fairest of the Fair. 

the feet and legs are bare, and the body of the 
robe is sleeveless, without so much as a strap 
over the shoulder. The colors are rich and 
harmonious, and the invariable sashes swing 
from the girdle. The soft skin of their little 
bodies is all powdered over with the fragrant 
dust of sandalwood — except their faces, which 
are powdered white. Elaborate crowns sur- 
mount their heads ; their bearing is solemn and 
dignified. Their dancing, or posing, is the 
same in principle as that of the first women, 
but somewhat more pronounced and various. 
While thus engaged they are approached by 
another Httle creature, entering by the opposite 
door ; and presently a duel takes place, with 
krisses, between her and the leader of the 
others. Each delivers blows slowly and with 
precision ; but so far as I could see neither 
was actually touched. However, the new- 
comer wins, and the defeated one is minis- 
tered to by her companions. 

Another act by the male performers follows, 
and then the play — which is said to be a re- 
ligious drama — is over. The orchestra plays a 
couple of American national airs, which sound 
strange in that place and from such instru- 



The Fairest of the Fair. 263 

ments. But the airs are perfectly rendered ; 
and considering that there is no conductor and 
that each musician plays his part without the 
least apparent regard to his fellows, this is re- 
markable. 

Altogether it is a most dainty, wonderful, in- 
comprehensible performance, and I would not 
have missed seeing it on any account. 

As I left the theatre I saw two or three 
Javanese flying kites — a favorite Javanese oc- 
cupation. The kites are usually tailless, with 
tassels at each side ; some are pamted with 
grinning faces, others simply with stripes, while 
others are quite plain. They ascend very 
easily, even in a shght breeze, and require no 
running. 

Good-bye to Java, with its gentle, courteous, 
dignified little people, its palm-thatched cot- 
tages, its palm leaf weather vanes, its dehcate 
embroideries, its sharp krisses. Passing out of 
the tall bamboo gate, I cross Midway's broad 
walk to the South-Sea Islanders opposite. 



XXI. 

The South-Sea Islanders, before each of 
their performances, march in single file out 
of the gate of their enclosure into the Midway, 
and so round to the theatre entrance. One of 
them (generally the last of the line) thumps 
with a couple of sticks on a drum slung over 
his shoulders. Sometimes another blows ghastly 
peals on a conch-shell. If they are feeling par- 
ticularly good they give a few war-whoops, 
compared with which the wildest yells of a 
Sioux warrior would sound as mild as the 
cooing of a dove. 

There are about twenty-five of them, though 
not all appear at each performance. Three 
are girls, all from Samoa ; the youngest a win- 
ning little creature not more than twelve years 
old; the oldest, eighteen. The men, who are 
Fijians chiefly, are splendid specimens of phys- 
ical beauty, lithe and strong, with bodies per- 
fectly developed, and smooth, sloping muscles 
under a golden-brown skin. Their eyes are 

264 



The Fairest of the Fair. 265 

dark and their hair black ; their features 
comely, and, in two or three, handsome even, 
and intelligent in expression. 

Fetoai, the eldest girl, is plump, and darker 
than the two others, with long, narrow eyes 
and a laughing mouth. The second, Lola, 
is as beautiful in face and figure as ever 
woman was. She is rather tall, neither stout 
nor slim, her limbs and body exquisitely 
rounded, her arms tapering to the wrists, 
and terminating in small, slender hands. Her 
feet too are small, with high-arched insteps and 
straight, delicate ankles. Her countenance is 
of the Asiatic type — high cheek-bones, straight 
nose, large bright eyes, a lovely mouth, and an 
expression of maidenly dignity and sweet un- 
consciousness. Her beauty — if she knows it — 
is a matter of no regard to her ; she is never 
embarrassed by it, but sings and dances with 
the wild grace and freedom of a young wood- 
nymph playing with her wild sisters. 

These girls are all dressed in low-cut, sleeve- 
less tunics reaching to the knee, made of the 
beaten pulp of a native bark, and called tapa- 
cloth. Their ornaments are coral and shell 
necklaces, fringes of colored grass, and a 



266 The Fairest of the Fair, 

wreath of the same on their wavy black 
hair. Lola one day found some excelsior, 
and wore it on her stately little head with 
a delicious air of satisfaction. 

The men wear a skirt of the same cloth, 
sometimes reaching half-way to the knee ; 
sometimes as far below it. That is all, except 
their coral necklaces, crossed over chest and 
back; and fringes of grass round waist or 
neck, or passing under one arm. They, too, 
wear wreaths on their heads, or a sort of cap 
or turban made of a fold of tapa-cloth. Some- 
times they tie a wisp of grass round the arm, 
knee or ankle. They are tattooed with solid 
blue, in artistic contrast with their golden skins, 
from waist to knee ; when the skirt happens 
to slip aside this is visible, but it looks like an 
inner garment. Some of these young men 
are a revelation of what a beautiful object 
a man's body may be. 

I found, on trial, that the front row of seats 
was the best, though new-comers generally 
seemed to fear it was too near. So a seat 
in the front row was my place at least once 
every day. 

The Islanders made their prnmenade twice, 



The Fairest of the Fair. 267 

so that after taking my seat I could watch 
them come up the side aisle, passing close be- 
side me, and running up the steps to the stage 
entrance, which the leader pushes open with a 
thrust of his paddle ; they all carry paddles, 
known as dancing-clubs. The theatre is of 
fair size, the plaster walls painted with scenes 
of Pacific Islands, with tall palms, running 
streams, groups of natives, moonhght on sil- 
very water, and curving rims of coast. The 
effect is pleasing, though crude ; it is a little 
startling to see a gas- fixture emerging from a 
quiet pool, or sprouting amidst the leaves of 
a palm. The stage curtain also has an island 
scene upon it. 

But what a splendid, wild-looking group 
these savage men and maidens are, with their 
naked, beautiful figures ; their free, graceful 
movements ; their fluttering fringes and red 
necklaces ! And how merry they are, too, 
laughing with one another at some joke, and 
hoisting the little brown baby (which sometimes 
manages to slip unbeknownst on the stage) on 
to their broad shoulders, where it sits with its 
tiny fists buried in their short black hair. One 
of their favorite ways of carrying the baby — 



268 The Fairest of the Fair. 

whose mother does not appear on the stage — 
is to Hft it by those same Httle fists, so that it 
swings by the arms, much Hke a rabbit carried 
by the ears. 

Five dances — though not always the same 
five — usually constitute a performance ; but 
Tapetei, descriptive of an expedition to Wallis 
Island, always begins it. Before the curtain 
rises the deep, musical voices commence the 
song, and I hear the rhythmic beat of feet. Up 
the curtain goes, and there the men stand, in a 
double row, twirling the clubs in their hands, 
glancing to left and right alternately, and sing- 
ing their beautiful wild song. Suddenly the 
one on my extreme left utters a sharp excla- 
mation, and he and the last man on the right 
of the line run swiftly past each other, ex- 
changing places ; then clap their paddles 
sharply against their palms, run back, and the 
dancing, interrupted for the moment, is re- 
sumed. The step is a spring from one foot to 
the other, advancing each alternately, keeping 
absolute time, twirling the paddles and sing- 
ing. The swing and movement and harmony 
of sound and motion are more than words can 
convey. There are several changes, or figures, 



The Fairest of the Fair, 269 

in the dance, descriptive, I suppose, of various 
adventures met with on the journey thither; 
but what exactly they all mean no white per- 
son can ever know. 

Another song and dance always given is 
Manululu, which begins with the whole com- 
pany sitting cross-legged on the floor, in four or 
five rows, the three girls in the middle of the 
front row. Lola and a young fellow called 
Filipo (with a figure like that of some Grecian 
victor of the Olympian games) were the best 
performers in this. It opens with a song by 
Fetoai, relating a Samoan genealogy, all the 
others joining in the ever-recurring chorus with 
a lilt and volume of sound delicious to hear. 
This done, Lola sang a love story of Samoa, 
two of the drummers beating a low accompani- 
ment. She sings a bar or two, then the chorus 
chimed in ; then another couplet, and so on. 
All through this song the people in the rear 
rows kept up a soft, rhythmic hand-clapping, 
while the front row made a series of panto- 
mimic gestures charmingly graceful. There 
was a sort of rowing movement with the hands, 
to the front and on either side ; the hands rise 
over the head, the bodies sway, the knees rise 



270 The Fairest of the Fair, 

and fall as they sit cross-legged ; the chant 
waxes faster and wilder and the motions more 
rapid and beautiful. The hands are clapped 
together thrice on the left knee, the body bends 
back and forth, and the hands meet again 
thrice on the right knee. Another way of 
clapping is to hold both hands palm upwards 
on the knees, strike the left knee twice with the 
back of the left hand, which is then carried 
across and smitten into the palm of the right 
hand on the right knee. 

Lola's love-song is immediately followed by 
Matu, a Fijian dance of rejoicing. The whole 
company rise to their feet and form in a ring 
round the drummers squatting in the centre. 
The chanting is rapid and energetic, they leap 
up and down, run to and fro, swaying the body 
and swinging the arms, and now and again 
there is a shout, an exclamation, a laugh, or 
one of those wild whoops that only South-Sea 
cannibals can utter. That heart must be sad 
indeed that feels no answering thrill of exhilara- 
tion. As for me, it was as much as I could do 
to refrain from shouting too, and leaping up to 
join them. 

There is a Fijian cannibal dance, called 



The Fairest of the Fair, 271 

Metaraa, fierce and terrible, but which is 
seldom given. As the curtain rises they are 
seated on the floor, singing and swaying ; anon 
they leap to their feet with a bound and a 
stamp that shake the stage, and begin a succes- 
sion of strange and ominous movements, cul- 
minating in an awful gesture of the head and 
arms, as if they were tearing human flesh from 
the bone. They grow more and more excited, 

and swing themselves, and sing I 

should not hke to hear that song when it is 
sung in earnest, if this make-believe can be so 
savage and fierce. Yet it is musical withal. 

In the Fijian war-dance and song — Timiraii 
— they rock in perfect time from one foot to the 
other, suddenly rush forward waving their clubs 
threateningly, make a half- whirl, and drop with 
a crash of clubs on the floor, to one knee, 
rising again simultaneously with a bound. I 
liked this dance much ; it was perhaps the 
most exciting of any, though not so terrifying 
as Metaraa. There were more war-whoops in 
it — glorious yells ! — than in any other. 

Satei is a religious dance and song ; it con- 
sists of a sort of quarter-staff bouts between 
groups of four, very complicated and rapid, 

19 



272 The Fairest of the Fair, 

with many changes and gyrations. Two of 
each group have staves four feet long ; the 
other two, a short stick in each hand. At 
every beat of the music, staves and sticks are 
smitten forcibly together — so forcibly as to 
break them often — while the combatants (to 
call them that) twist in and out between one 
another, striking before and behind, above and 
below, and never missing the blow. At the 
end of each interval, the staves are struck all 
at once on the floor. All drop to one knee, 
and one — the second from the end — rises, runs 
down the line, strikes his staff thrice on the 
ground, says som_e thing in a sharp tone, and 
returns to his place. Up they all get, and the 
dance and chant continue. 

The club- drill, called Ailauti, is one of the 
most remarkable feats of skill in the whole 
performance. The 7 clubs are whirled and 
twisted so swiftly that the eye cannot follow the 
movements— -over head, behind,- in front, on 
either side, while the men stand, kneel, leap to 
their feet, turn and waver back and forth. 
Often some one lets a club drop ; generally this 
is done by some of the less skilful ones in 
the back rows ; but one day, a front-row man, 



The Fairest of the Fair, 273 

a jolly fellow, who was always laughing and 
joking with his comrades, let his club slip, and 
it flew out in the audience and dropped in front 
of a spectator sitting next the stage. The lat- 
ter, after recovering his self-possession, picked 
up the club and replaced it on the stage ; but 
its owner had immediately gone off, much em- 
barrassed. The rest acted as though nothing 
had happened out of the way, and, spreading 
out their line, filled the vacancy. 

Since the Fourth of July the performance 
has ended with the singing of "America" by 
the Islanders ; and very charmingly do they 
sing it, though the unintelligible Polynesian 
words they use really mean " God save the 
Queen." They stand up quietly while singing 
it, with hands folded or hanging, and it seems 
odd to see them thus, instead of moving in a 
dance, as in their own songs. For me, I prefer 
them in the latter. 

As the curtain goes down for the last time 
expressions of delight in the performance are 
audible on all sides ; and no wonder, for it is the 
best thing on Midway. The oftener I went the 
more I liked to go ; and I always wished it were 
longer, and was never weary of any part of it. 



274 '^^^ Fairest of the Fair. 

During my stay the Village, being un- 
finished, was not open to the public ; but I 
was [fortunate enough to know the managers, 
and was permitted to go in and out as I 
pleased, and to sit on the mats in the round 
huts — one of which, the largest, is quite old, 
and belonged to Metaafa, the deposed king. 
One day I saw Filipo make a fire by rubbing 
two pieces of wood together ; it took him less 
than three minutes ; and then he lighted his 
pipe at the flame. 

They are a happy people, full of fun, humor- 
ous, liking a joke. They are proud, too, and 
think themselves at least as good as anybody 
else. And they all intend, as soon as the 
great Fair finally shuts its gates, to go back to 
their beautiful islands. 

Albeit of such recent cannibal ancestry, 
half of this company are Roman Catholics, 
and the rest are Methodists. The latter will 
not dance on Sundays, so, on that day, the 
gates of the Pacific are closed. The CathoKcs, 
amidst their coral and grass ornaments, wear 
a small silver charm, glittering against their 
brown chests. 

When, for the last time, I say good-bye to 



The Fairest of the Fair, 275 

the South-Sea Islands, and pass out, it is even- 
ing ; and, before leaving Midway, never to 
return, I shall walk its length once more. It 
is at its best between eight and nine o'clock, 
when the villages and buildings have poured a 
portion of their many-nationed, many-tongued 
inhabitants into its broad walk, to mingle with 
one another and the American crowd — which 
seems to be the most " foreign " of them all! 



XXII. 

The muezzins in the Turkish and Cairo min- 
arets are calling, for the last time to-day, •' La- 
Allah-ill-Allah !" — falling, rising, shrill and 
sweet. They vanish ; and gradually, as it 
darkens, the electric lamps gleam out, border- 
ing on either side of Midway, up and down as 
far as I can see. 

Dahomey's gates are closed, and all within is 
quiet ; but from Old Vienna, next door, comes 
a mingled sound of music and jollity; people 
are pouring in at its arched gateways. I 
saunter along very slowly, until I find myself 
opposite the Algerian Theatre, through the 
stained-glass windows of which light streams 
forth. I will wait to see the Aissaous pass by. 
Here they are, heralded by the strange, discord- 
ant, thrilling sounds of pipe and hand-drums ; 
the big Nubians lift high the embroidered ban- 
ners ; and now the Aissaous, facing about 
beneath the porch, their white caftans blowing 
in the light south wind, begin their chant. As 

276 




The Fairest of the Fair. 

they turn and vanish through the 
doors, one turns to say some- 
thing, laughingly, to an 
Arab leaning against a 
pillar ; and I remember 
that he is the one who 
sticks the spike through 
his cheek. 

Aloft there swings tire- 
lessly the Great Wheel. 
On the Fourth of July red 
fire was burned on the roofs 
of its cars, and on the great 
axle ; and as it turned about it seemed a 
cataract of sullen flame pouring out of 
black sky to shrivel up the crowds packed be- 
low and gazing up at it with the red reflection 
on their faces. On that day, also, two lines of 
Chinese lanterns were strung from post to post 
down the length of the Plaisance, with an effect 
of magical loveliness ; an apparently endless 
succession of graceful curves glowing softly in 
many colors. 

The bazars are shut, and their owners are 
scattered amidst the crowd. I pass a group of 
Arabs in earnest talk, their burnouses flutter- 

277 





the 



278 The Fairest of the Fair. 

ing, or clutched with a dark, restraining hand. 
And yonder goes a Turk in baggy white trous- 
ers and gold-embroidered jacket, convoying 
two dancing-girls in brilliant silks and heavy 
ankle-bangles jangling at each step. Glancing 
up, I see that Cairo minaret has been illumi- 
nated, not with electric light, but with a row of 
tiny lanterns round each of the two lower bal- 
conies. The airy, fretted tower, rising softly 
white against the darkness of the sky, with the 
twinkling lights shining like two girdles of 
spiritual crystals, is like an ethereal dream of 
architecture, ascending towards heaven. 

The Persian Palace is bravely illuminated; 
from the upper windows stream the dance music 
and the applause. A group of donkey-boys 
hesitate at the doorway, debating whether to go 
in. Their blue caftans catch the light, and 
their brown faces grin as jollily as ever. 

The Turks in Turkey are gathered about the 
fruit-bazar, sipping sherbet and talking excit- 
edly, with many gestures ; or they sit on the 
veranda of the cafe-chantant smoking nargi- 
lehs and playing backgammon. The stout little 
Albanian, who put so much energy into his 
appeals to the public to enter and see the danc- 



The Fairest of the Fair, 279 

ing of the Fine Young Ladies, seems somewhat 
dejected ; he has substituted a pair of green 
Turkish trousers for his white petticoat, and sits 
banging fitfully on a huge drum. Perhaps the 
brown-haired dancing-girl has trifled with his 
affections. 

Here is a crowd of curious persons surround- 
ing (of course !) a Javanese, who is selling one 
of them a couple of cigarettes for five cents. 
They ask him questions ; he nods and smiles 
with twinkling eyes, but the joke is that he 
understands not a syllable. Two tall Persian 
wrestlers pass, walking hand in hand like chil- 
dren, with the electric light glowing on their 
deep-purple caftans. They are followed by 
four or five Soudanese in their toga-like dress, 
striding with the free grace of some superb 
wild animal, the black skin of arm and face 
contrasting vividly with the white of their 
attire. There they go, the fierce fighters of the 
Soudan, the " Fuzzy-Wuzzies " of Kipling's 
ballad, who ** broke a British Square." And 
here, for a contrast, come a knot of German 
soldiers in bright uniforms, their swords clank- 
ing, and spurs on their heels. 

Lights twinkle among the trees of the Ger- 



2§o The Fairest of the Fair, 

man Village as I pass, and the band is playing 
there. A couple of Hindus in white walk 
slowly by, eyeing with gentle curiosity a com- 
pany of French peasants in blouses and clumsy 
wooden shoes, who are jabbering to one 
another with Gallic vivacity. The tables out- 
side the Vienna Cafe are filled with guests ; a 
waltz is playing, and the kellners rush to and 
fro with beer and coffee. 

What is that deep, low sound rolling out ab- 
ruptly over the Plaisance, and thrilling in my 
breast ? No other sound can be mistaken for 
that — it is the roar of the lion. The passing 
crowd halts and looks upward. In the cage 
over the entrance to Hagenbeck's Arena four 
or five lions are pacing to and fro, their yellow 
bodies gliding, lithe and sinuous, in the light 
of the lamps below, and their eyes shining. 
Again, one roars and another answers, ending 
with a long growl. The crowd stands, im- 
pressed and silent, gazing at the great beasts. 
What a splendid, savage sound it is, and, be- 
fore it dies away, what a vision it brings of 
dark tropic jungles and wide, moonlighted 
plains ! As it vibrates within me, I remem- 
ber the chant of the Sidi Ben Aissa. I Unger 



The Fairest of the Fair, 281 

awhile, hoping the lions will roar again. But 
they squat down in their cage and rest their 
great heads on their paws. There is something 
in me that answers to that wild voice, not in 
fear, but with a strange delight. 

A few lights glimmer here and there in Java 
as I go by. A small figure is walking across 
the enclosure from the eastern to the western 
end. But on the two benches which flank the 
entrance outside seven or eight Javanese are 
seated, chattering with one another, attempt- 
ing scraps of conversation, in their pretty 
broken English, with the passing crowd, and 
smoking. One of them takes a big red apple 
out of his pocket, and is about to eat it, when 
his next neighbor but one snatches it and takes 
a bite out of it before handing it back to its 
owner, who grins, and reaches over to give the 
other a thump on the shoulder. 

Over in Samoa the mat curtains of the round 
huts are down, but through the crevices light is 
visible, and I hear the musical voices of the 
Islanders rehearsing some new song. 

As I pass the glass-works I overtake several 
Chinese, dressed in flowing robes of pale 
salmon, blue and white, with queues reach- 



282 The Fairest of the Fair, 

ing to their heels, and the next moment brush 
against a crowd of jolly Irish peasants, who 
have just come out of their Village. And now 
I am at the last viaduct, and I turn for one 
more look. 

The long street is crowded with all the peo- 
ples of the world, and brilliant with many- 
colored lights. Overhead, the search-light 
from the Main Building, which has been 
glancing across the sky like the gleaming 
sword of some gigantic genie, touches the 
Ferris Wheel, bringing it suddenly out of 
nothingness, and throwing its shadow on the 
clouds behind it. And up and down, on 
either side, cluster and climb the minarets, 
the round domes, the thatched roofs, the 
tapering obelisks, in that strange proximity 
which has grown to be so familiar, and will 
always remain to me so unforgetable. 

Truly, I am loth to go. The art, the power, 
and the mighty works of Man are represented 
elsewhere in the Fair ; but here in Midway is 
Man Himself; and it has a warm, human fas- 
cination which nothing else can possess. But 
the hour is passing, and the crowd is pressing 
by to the east, where the illuminations are 



The Fairest of the Fair. 



283 



awaiting them. At last I too turn my back 
on the world of the Plaisance, and bend my 
steps towards Fairy Land. 




XXIII. 

Passing through the Woman's Building, I 
cross the high-backed bridge to Wooded Island. 

How sweet and quiet it is ! Only an occa- 
sional Guard, or a pair of whispering lovers (or 
the two in combination) break the solitude. 
Lamps with gracefully shaped globes of pink 
or pale green glass, or pure white, glow out 
here and there along the twisting paths, but do 
not disturb the mystery of the gloom under the 
trees, whose boughs are softly stirring in the 
faint evening air. On a bench, where a per- 
fume of roses, and grass and cool earth sur- 
rounds me, I sit to rest awhile. The shadows 
of the tree over my head move back and forth 
on the smooth pathway ; a restless bird chir- 
rups from a tall clump of shrubbery near by. 
By degrees the feeling of peaceful loneliness 
flows into my heart and fills it. I get up once 
more and, sauntering onwards, cross another 
bridge to the smaller Island, where stands a 
little log cabin — a hunter's camp — with a wood 

284 



The Fairest of the Fair. 285 

fire on the hearth, the floor strewn with skins, 
and, hung on the walls, heads of deer, wolf and 
bear, and all the implements and trophies of 
the chase. A third arched bridge connects the 
small Island with the main land. I pause on 
the centre of it to watch a gondola glide under- 
neath and disappear round the sedgy shore. 
Then I pass on, and in another minute am 
merged once more in the great crowd. The 
stimulus of their myriad-fold contact enters 
into me. No more shadows and solitudes to- 
night ! 

On my right, as I turn towards the Lake, 
open the vast doorways of the Electricity 
Building, which is at its best at night, and I 
drift in there with a thousand others. It is a 
wilderness of briUiance, humming and murmur- 
ing with invisible force. At the north end, the 
PVench exhibit of light-house lamps and re- 
flectors is conspicuous, though they are not 
lighted, perhaps because they would be too 
blinding. Fixed search-lights are stationed at 
various places in the Building, and when you 
unexpectedly cross the ray of one of them, the 
rest of the dazzling scene turns dark in con- 
trast. It is impossible to separate and analyze 



286 The Fairest of the Fair. 

the radiant and sparkling splendors that rain 
upon me from every side. Up there in the gal- 
lery a sentence flashes out, as if written by an 
unseen hand, in letters of white fire ; it van- 
ishes as suddenly, and in its place gleams forth 
a name in vivid blue. Yonder revolves a great 
crystal globe, and now the western, now the 
eastern hemisphere is alighted. A tri-colored 
serpent of light wriggles up a pillar, separates 
at the top into three zig-zags of red, white and 
blue lightning, which find their way to as many 
spinning spheres, in which they glow and van- 
ish. Here is a splendid pavilion, in the shape 
of an Egyptian temple, all flooded with soft, 
golden light that comes through the translucent 
ceiling, and is so diffused and subtle that it 
seems to emanate from everywhere and be in 
the very air you breathe. There are the pure 
white lamps of the Brush system, noticeable 
even amidst this storm of light by the serene 
intensity of their lustre. 

But the most impressive sight here is the 
illumination of the great pillar which rises in 
the centre of the building, and stands lifeless 
during all save a few minutes of each day. 

It rises nearly to the roof, and is crowned, 



The Fairest of the Fair, iZ^j 

during its illumination, with a ring of arc-lights 
of intense brightness. Just below are the 
words "Bunker Hill " in golden fire. At 
the base of the pillar is a pavilion, hung with 
many-shaped and colored lamps. Suddenly, 
as I look at the dark shaft, a coil of blue, red 
and green light writhes around it from top to 
bottom ; the colors change, vanish and reap- 
pear, now twisted and interlaced in patterns 
that momently vary and shine out in fresh 
combinations ; anon parallel lines of gold 
strike up and down the height of the column ; 
between them creep in serpentine flashes of 
red and blue. A moment, and all is dark ! 
anothep moment, and it gleams out anew, in 
even more marvelous intricacy and magnifi- 
cence. The variety and beauty seem inex- 
haustible ; but at last, as suddenly as it began, 
the radiance vanishes for the last time, and all 
is done. 

And now I feel a drawing, which I can no 
longer resist, to the lovely Court. The soul of 
all beauty is there ; and thither I take my way. 
I pass under Franklin's statue in the vaulted 
entrance, and out into the high summer night. 

I have seen the Great Court under many 

2P 



288 The Fairest of the Fair. 

conditions — when it was steeped in the full, 
noon-day sun, its ramparts gleaming white 
against the deep blue sky and water ; when it 
was tinged with the rosy flush of the declining 
day ; or lay in the gray shadow of a cloudy 
heaven ; and twice or thrice I have seen it 
when a sudden tempest swept up from the 
lake, turning the sky black, roaring with 
thunder and flashing with hghtning, and the 
rush of the rain beat upon the white palaces 
and golden domes, and made the level Lagoon 
leap and dance under the dash of the rain- 
drops. 

But, lovely as under all circumstances it is, 
the time of its supreme and crowning beauty 
is at night, when the enchantment of the 
illumination has transfigured it. If, before, I 
had wondered that mortal hands could fashion 
aueht so fair, I now ceased to think of it as 
made at all. All that I know of it — all that I 
care for — is that it is here ; and I may gaze my 
fill upon it. 

But how shall I convey to others the vision 
that I behold ? 

Along the upper edge of the white walls en- 
closing the Basin, following the arched span of 



The Fairest of the Fair, 289 

the bridges, the fafades of the Buildings, the 
cornice of the Peristyle, the curves of the 
stately entrances, and ascending in sweeping 
arcs the golden dome of the Administration — 
are chains of golden light. The summit of 
the dome is a-fire with a living crown, and 
along the upper balcony blaze and flare a row 
of wind-swept torches. Only the Administra- 
tion is illuminated on all sides ; the others, 
only on the sides which face the Court. In 
addition to the golden light is the silver of the 
Brush Electric, a double row of which environ 
the Basin. 

This gold and silver splendor meet and min- 
gle on the surface of the water, which dances 
and shivers in Httle waves stirred up by the wan- 
dering gondolas and launches. The launches 
dart about, adding to the hues upon the water 
the red and green of the lights they carry ; but 
the gondolas move in stately fashion, some 
with their awnings hung with Chinese lanterns, 
others mysteriously dark. Near the middle of 
the Basin float three gondolas together, occu- 
pied only by seven or eight gondoliers, who 
lounge on the cushions and sing Italian songs. 
Now and then a panting steam-launch plies its 



290 The Fairest of the Fair, 

way under the arch of the Peristyle, and forth 
into the lake ; or returns thence with a shrill 
toot that rudely breaks the omnipresent har- 
mony, though enhancing its deliciousness by 
contrast, after its discord is done. 

Thousands of spectators are distributed over 
the vast spaces of the Court, but cannot throng 
it. They sit or stroll about, forgetting to be in 
haste ; they talk in low tones ; from the white 
pavilions floats and streams the music in the 
warm summer air. I say in my heart, over and 
over again, " How beautiful !" The dark, star- 
sprinkled sky, the mysterious obscurity of Lake 
Michigan, with illuminated boats floating on 
her bosom ; the Court, with its blending gold 
and silver, its white palaces, its bridges over 
the many-shadowed, all-reflecting waters ; the 
flitting boats, the idling crowd, the music — all 
this loveliness, noble and bewitching, takes my 
breath away, and the delight of it makes my 
heart ache. Almost can I realize immortality 
on earth, since a thousand years would not be 
long to look and wonder in. 

The great search-lights have been gliding 
and crossing one another about the sky, strik- 
ing, now and then, on the towers of Machinery 



The Fairest of the Fair, 291 

Hall, or on the flying Diana round whose ped- 
estal is a circle of light ; or on the Columbus 
Quadriga surmounting the arch of the Peri- 
style ; or on the head and shoulders of the 
Great Republic. But all at once they meet 
and concentrate upon the lady of the Foun- 
tain, her barge and nymphs, so that the God- 
dess sits, white as snow, amidst the silvery 
water-jets towering about her, and falling again 
with a rustling sound, and flashing down the 
terraces. So fair is she, so hght and strong, 
she seems the Spirit itself of Water and of 
Light. 

Three nights in each week fireworks are 
given in the Court and on the Lake front, but 
be they never so gorgeous, I do not care for 
fireworks in such a place as this. I do not 
want a brass band as accompaniment to a 
poem of Keats. 

Suddenly the row of incandescent lamps 
which encircles the Basin Hke a string of Hve 
amber beads is extinguished, and so are the 
lights on Administration, all save the torches, 
which must burn until they go out of them- 
selves. The Court is now in semi-darkness. 
What is about to happen ? 



292 The Fairest of the Fair. 

There is a whisper, a rush, a startling leap 
straight upwards of two mighty towers of water 
on either side of the MacMonnies Fountain. 
Gleaming white they stand and fall at once. 
The Electric Fountains have begun to play ! 
Through the whiteness steals magically a soft 
pink glow, increasing and deepening, until the 
twin fountains topple and aspire in rosy red, 
casting over the Buildings and on the surface 
of the Basin luminous reflections. The rose 
grows faint, it is changing to primrose, it is 
subsiding to emerald, it strengthens to purple 
and to blue, it flashes into dazzling white once 
more. And now it is all the hues of the rain- 
bow at once; it subsides, it mounts again, it 
whirls and radiates, it surrounds itself with 
golden sheaves of wheat, it is a living dome, it 
is a cluster of waving plumes. Again and 
again does one form and color merge into 
another ; and always, just as I am about to say 
"Ah! this is the loveliest!" another change 
makes me leave the words unsaid, to be sure 
whether the new be not the best. 

The splendor sinks at last to rise no more ; 
yes, it is gone. And I must be gone, also. 
The necklaces of lights are hung again upon 



The Fairest of the Fair. 293 

the margins of the Basin, and the calm seren- 
ity of that perfect beauty wraps me about ; it 
is unearthly — a vision of heaven — an embodi- 
ment of those sweet and elusive thoughts of 
beauty that haunt the soul sometimes with joy- 
ful prophecies. But I must go. 

I shall never see the Fair again, and yet I 
have but to close my eyes and open those of 
my memory, and there it is ! and will be until 
I forget all things. It stands in its white 
beauty, bathed in sun or fairy light, with the 
peace of its Wooded Island, the medley of its 
Plaisance, the wonderland within its Palaces, 
and its changeful waters, holding the glimmer- 
ing shadows of its loveliness. Like those re- 
flections it is destined to vanish from the world. 
But in truth it is immortal ; its virtue will spread 
over all the earth, borne in men's hearts and 
memories, and bearing who knows what gra- 
cious fruits ? 

Yet methinks no successor of it can be fairer 
than its own self. A Cleopatra among cities, 
infinite in beauty and variety, it is indeed the 
Fairest of the Fair ! 

THE END. 



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